Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup
by LadyRainbow
Summary: Not THAT kind of fic. LOL. An immediate sequel to the Switcheroo fic Captain Sato's Enterprise, but a slightly different tone. Please read and review! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Rating: T**

**Spoilers: None**

**Pairings: for this story, R/S and TnT

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**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe, and the Vulcans have their own agenda.**

**Crew roster for this AU version of NX-01:**

**Captain Hoshi Sato**

**First Officer/Science Officer (Commander)Travis Mayweather**

**Chief Engineer (Commander) Phlox**

**Armory/Tactical Officer (Lieutenant Commander) Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third**

**Communications Officer (Lieutenant) Jonathan Archer**

**Helm/Navigation Officer (Ensign) T'Pol**

**Chief Medical Officer (Commander) Malcolm Reed**

**Other characters:**

**Ambassador Soval**

**Chief Minister V'Lar**

**Chief Minister of Sciences T'Les (T'Pol's mother)**

**Head of Vulcan Security T'Pau**

**(BTW...I haven't forgotten Travis and the Boomer Bust Trilogy. That's coming soon...once I figure out the ending. Promise :))**

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**One**

"Lieutenant Archer to Ensign T'Pol."

She put down her book, _Teachings of Surak,_ then activated the communications circuit. "T'Pol."

"Ensign, you have a communique from Ambassador Soval on a secured channel." Archer's voice held equal parts of respect and curiosity. On Vulcan, curiosity was a positive trait, as long as it was harnessed at the appropriate times. T'Pol gave a silent sigh; Archer was well-matched with that canine of his. What was the name of the animal? Porthos the beagle. The corner of her mouth went up in grim humor.

Her cool tone held none of her rancor for the floppy-eared menace. "I will speak with him, Lieutenant."

"Transferring now, and please give the ambassador my regards."

"I will certainly do so," she answered. Lieutenant Jonathan Archer had worked with Soval at the Vulcan Embassy in San Francisco as a diplomat and cultural liaison, before joining Starfleet---and _Enterprise---_at Captain Sato's request. He and Soval were long-time friends.

But even long-time friends didn't tell each other everything.

The silver-haired Vulcan ambassador appeared on her screen. Soval raised his hand in the Vulcan salute, which she returned. "T'Pol, my apologies for disturbing your rest."

"I was not asleep, Ambassador."

He raised an eyebrow and said, "I am not currently speaking in a diplomatic capacity, so you need not refer to me now with that title."

T'Pol considered that statement, then nodded. "Ah. I understand. Then I infer that this channel is completely secure, especially from Jonathan?"

Soval's mouth tightened at the name. Was that the smallest hint of regret in his eyes? T'Pol pretended not to see the betrayal of emotion. "Yes, even from Jonathan. He cannot interfere with our mission."

"And he will not," she reassured him. "He tends to see the best in everyone, as you well know. That is his biggest strength and his biggest weakness."

"Have you received your instructions from T'Pau?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"She was quite impressed by your previous reports. The navigational data has allowed us to track _Enterprise_'s progress and the personnel summaries gave us critical information on how to deal with her command crew." Soval raised his eyebrow again. "Captain Sato is not your typical Starfleet captain."

"No, she is not, and neither is her Armory Officer."

"Lieutenant Commander Tucker. He is highly emotional, but also highly skilled. That is a potentially dangerous combination."

T'Pol only nodded, for she didn't trust herself to speak. The memory of piercing blue eyes intruded on her consciousness and she pushed it away. _Highly emotional. Highly skilled. A potentially dangerous combination. _

"Do you foresee him as a threat, T'Pol?"

She carefully considered her words before she spoke them. "He has shown an interest in Vulcan culture and language, to the point where he is somewhat skilled in the _lirpa_ and wants to learn the _ahn-woon_." Soval's eyes widened a fraction, but she continued, "In return, he is instructing me in some Earth-based combat techniques. An equitable trade in information."

"But is he a threat? You have not answered my question." His voice was stern and amused at the same time.

Her face flushed bronze-green. She had been temporizing, but unaware of it. Tucker must have affected her more than she realized. "He has the potential to cause...trouble, Soval."

Soval nodded to himself. "I commend you on your honesty. It is not easy, dealing with these Humans on a personal basis. I must keep my friendship with Jonathan separate from our goals...and I find it somewhat disturbing how difficult it is to do so." He ducked his head as if he realized to whom he was talking. "Forgive me."

"'The cause was sufficient'," she said, quoting Surak. Her tone was even, without a trace of reproach. Privately, she understood—and sympathized—with Soval's dilemma. _You must not allow emotion to cloud your judgement. Logic dictates the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. Vulcan must be prepared for any eventuality._

Her mother T'Les had objected to her assignment to _Enterprise_. Yet she reassured T'Les that she was capable of meeting her objectives. Had her mother seen something that she was unaware of?

_It is illogical to dwell on what does not exist,_ she told herself firmly. Aloud, she said, "I will not allow my...feelings...for Lieutenant Commander Tucker to affect my performance, Soval. He is a valuable resource of tactical information."

Soval nodded. "Indeed."

"Captain Sato has invited me to evening meal with her and Tucker. I expect it to be a...productive evening."

"I look forward to reading that report, T'Pol." Soval raised his hand in the Vulcan salute again and she matched it. "Peace and long life. Until next time."

"Until next time."

His image winked out, replaced by the logo of the Vulcan High Command. T'Pol stared at it for a long time, deep in thought. There was no chance of her going back to sleep. Her conversation with Soval had kindled all sorts of thoughts...and possibilities.

_I must meditate on this. _She was assigned to Beta shift, so she had sufficient time. T'Pol turned to her closet, where she kept her meditation mat and the taper for her candles. Yes, there were always possibilities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.

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**Two**

"Buoys are prepped and ready to go, Commander."

Commander Travis Mayweather, First Officer and Science Officer of the _Enterprise_, nodded and swiveled around in the command chair. "Launch on my order, Commander Phlox."

"Acknowledged," said Phlox from Engineering. The Denobulan sounded more cheerful than usual and for good reason. Travis smiled and glanced at Lieutenant Rostov, who sat at Phlox's station on the bridge.

"Two minutes, Mike, and give me a twenty-second tick for reference."

"Yes, sir. Two minutes starting—now."

Travis brought his attention to the beautiful nebula in front on him. The _Enterprise_ remained a safe distance away from it, for Travis's scans had found a surge in its radiation levels. He had suggested launching warning buoys for the various cargo ships that traveled past the Urathan Nebula. Captain Sato had heartily agreed and Commander Phlox had arranged the launch of the buoys.

The hiss of the lift echoed loudly over the bridge. Captain Hoshi Sato nodded at Travis, but said nothing, only gestured for him to complete the launch. He nodded and waited for Rostov's cue.

"Twenty seconds, Commander."

"Thanks, Mike. Engineering?"

"Standing by...Buoys show green."

"Armory?"

Trip Tucker's voice came through loud and clear. "All ready down here, Commander."

Travis watched as the timer approached zero. Then he ordered, "Launch buoys."

Four spheres streaked towards the nebula on various vectors, slowing until they reached their target coordinates. Lieutenant Archer nodded as he listened to his earpiece and reported, "Warning buoys are running, Commander. No problems with the message."

"New data coming in," reported Lieutenant Varianis from the science station. "Scientific sensors are working at full capacity."

Captain Sato moved to Travis's side. "Excellent launch, Commander. Get some rest; you're earned it." Before he could object, she added, "You can analyze the nebula's data after at least four hours sleep. I've already warned Lieutenant Varianis that if she sees you in the lab before then, she's authorized to knock you out and drag you to Sickbay."

Travis's face fell in mock disappointment, then he turned and glared at his departmental XO. Lieutenant Ellen Varianis only shrugged as if to say, "Sorry, Commander. Captain's orders." He sighed and said, "Understood, Captain."

"Go on, get out of here. And Gamma shifters, you're relieved of duty."

With those words, the officers and crewman on Gamma shift turned over their stations to the incoming Alpha Shift personnel. In moments, the shift change was complete. Hoshi glanced over at Jon Archer, who still sat at the communications console. "You too, Lieutenant. I can see Crewman Rheinstein hovering over your shoulder."

Jon nodded and unfolded his tall, lanky frame from the chair. "Captain, may I have a few words with you in private before I go off-shift?"

"Of course. Lieutenant Varianis, you have the conn."

"Yes, ma'am," Varianis replied.

After Hoshi and Jon were settled in the Captain's Ready Room, she nodded for him to continue. He handed her a PADD. "Ensign T'Pol received a communique from Ambassador Soval at zero-three-twenty hours this morning. It was on a channel used by the Vulcan High Command, Priority Two."

Hoshi frowned at the information. "Wouldn't Soval have used the channel from the Consulate in San Francisco instead of the High Command?"

"He would have, if he was still in San Francisco."

"Soval's on Vulcan?"

"He has to be. Of course, he has enough clearance to use the Priority Channels from the High Command. It wasn't Priority One, so it couldn't have been a dire emergency." Jon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, which was unusual for the normally calm and collected lieutenant.

"Maybe it was family business. Isn't she Soval's niece or something like that? I know Vulcan families are complicated—"

Jon made a face. "His mother's sister is married to T'Pol's father's brother, so I believe that actually makes them cousins. Sort of, since Soval's aunt was actually adopted from another clan into his family when she was a child, and..."

"And I thought _my_ family was complicated," she groaned. "You didn't listen in on their conversation, did you?"

"Lord, no!" Jon shook his head. "Vulcans hold their privacy sacred. It's just that this is the third such conversation this week. I know Soval...he isn't the type of person who just says 'Hi, how are you?' that often. And if he's talking to T'Pol...I wonder if it _isn't_ a family-related problem."

Hoshi was silent as she considered that. "She wouldn't let that affect her job performance and I doubt she would tell us even if we asked her directly. All right, we'll keep an eye on her, make sure she's all right. I've invited her to the Captain's Mess for dinner; maybe I can find something then."

He looked relieved. "Thank you, Captain."

"Thank _you_ for bringing this to my attention, Jonathan. Now get something to eat and some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am. Oh, and those Luran speeches—"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I looked them over before I went to bed. I'm going to need your help later on a few passages, but I think I got most of it."

"Just let me know when."

"I will. Thanks."

Jon smiled and left the ready room. Hoshi brought up one of the Luran texts on the screen. She was supposed to make the same speech in three different dialects...and crack a Luran whip at certain points during the speech to "keep her admirers at bay". She nearly choked at the prospect of using a deadly weapon on a first contact mission. Luckily, Ensign T'Pol was skilled in the _ahn-woon_, the Vulcan version of the whip and had offered to give Hoshi lessons.

"Hmmm...I wonder..." she thought aloud. She switched screens and brought up Ensign T'Pol's personnel file. Of course, Hoshi had reviewed all of her bridge staff's records when _Enterprise_ was launched a year ago, but she hadn't looked at them much since. A certain detail nagged at her. She scrolled down T'Pol's service record until she found it.

According to the file, T'Pol had been assigned to the Vulcan Security Ministry after her initial training. After eighteen months, she had requested a transfer to the Vulcan Space Operations Ministry, where T'Pol concentrated her efforts on navigation and helm systems for Vulcan ships. She had stayed with Space Operations for twelve years before a brief stint at the Vulcan Science Academy with her mother, T'Les, and her posting to the new _Enterprise._

Her performance reviews were impeccable. She had earned many awards and accolades from her peers. "So why is she only an ensign?" Hoshi murmured. "You'd think that Starfleet would have made her at least a lieutenant, if not a lieutenant commander. You don't make someone with that kind of space experience a mere ensign."

_Had T'Pol been demoted at one time? _There was no mention of a demotion in her official record. Another thought occurred to Hoshi: She was the first Vulcan to serve on an Earth Starfleet ship. Was there some prejudice involved? Hoshi winced at the idea, but unfortunately, it was possible. Earth was still new at space travel, and its people still adjusting to the possibility of meeting new races.

_I'll try to find out something during tonight's dinner. It just doesn't make any sense._ Hoshi sighed and with an effort, switched her screen back to the Luran text. Before she plunged back into Luran verbs and prepositions, she added, _Travis was right. T'Pol _is _an enigma._


	3. Chapter 3

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Three**

It was another busy day in Sickbay. Doctor Malcolm Reed wondered how Security ever got anything done, since at least two of its members seemed to be in Sickbay at any given time. Unfortunately, it wasn't for security against germs or allergens or the like. Malcolm nodded at the latest victim of a training session gone awry.

"Saying 'I forgot to duck' is like Lieutenant Commander Tucker saying 'I ran into a door'," he said dryly.

"The thing is, Doctor, Commander Tucker _has_ run into a door before," grumbled Ensign Riley. The Irishman came from the same county that Malcolm's Irish kin came from. "So it's always possible, na?"

"With logic like that, God help the lot of you," Malcolm teased. "So...let's remember to duck the next time Crewman El-Sadr throws a punch that _isn't_ a feint, all right."

"I _still _think Saeed pulled a fast one on me," Riley muttered. He winced as he touched the goose egg on his head. "Do I _really_ have to stay here for observation? I've got work to do."

Malcolm only gazed at him with "The Look". Riley matched the stare, but after only a few minutes, he had to lower his eyes. "Damn it all, sir, I hate it when you do that."

"Then don't make the Doc resort to the Evil Eye," Trip Tucker said from the doorway. "It's a registered weapon, Seamus, and no one's immune to it. I've actually seen Andorians brought to their knees by a single glare."

"As well as loud, recalcitrant Armory Officers," Malcolm added with a touch of sarcasm, "who try to get out of their annual physicals."

"What? I got your message. I'll be here at zero-six hundred hours sharp tomorrow morning." Trip didn't sound fazed by the accusation, no matter how true it actually was. "C'mon, Seamus, I got Rochelle coverin' for you. Head injuries aren't somethin' to take lightly. Saeed didn't pull his punches, and I gave him a strict talkin' to. He's not gonna clobber you again like that."

"Thank God." Riley put a hand on the side of his head. "Think I could get another dose of that stuff, Doctor Reed? Or at least a dram of whiskey?"

"Sorry, lad. The analgesic will make itself felt in a minute or two and alcohol's not a good thing to mix with it. Come on, I'll let Lieutenant Cutler get you comfortable on one of our accommodating biobeds..."

"Hotel Reed, indeed," Riley slurred as Liz Cutler helped him off the examination table and towards one of the biobeds at the back of Sickbay. Malcolm blew out a frustrated breath. "Liz, Lieutenant Commander Tucker and I will be in my office."

"Okay, Doc. I'll call you if anything earth-shattering happens."

Once they were in Malcolm's office, Trip sat heavily in his chair as Malcolm sat at his desk. "Travis knows about Crewman El-Sadr's penchant for blowin' up," Trip said quietly. "I think the man shouldn't be in the Armory anytime soon. He's on report and confined to quarters, pending Travis's decision on what to do with him."

Malcolm shook his head. "I don't understand. El-Sadr hasn't always been this volatile."

"No, he hasn't, but it started about two weeks ago. I can't have him putting my people in danger, and I can't afford to have him on a critical away team." Trip sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his short blond hair.

Malcolm hummed under his breath as he brought up Saheed El-Sadr's medical record. "No major allergies, no extreme reactions to standard medicines. Broke his arm in hand-to-hand combat on Shubry's Planet, alcohol poisoning from a spiked drink on Varitam—"

"Yeah, someone thought he was an informant and tried to off him. I remember that mission."

"—heat exhaustion from Hades Five, frostbite from the Andorian Ice wastes, surgery to take out his appendix and his gall bladder, cracked ribs from an altercation on Wrenlet, plasma burns from a engine leak while the _Freeman _was docked at Jupiter Station. My God, the man's a walking medical case."

Despite himself, Trip's mouth quirked in a grin. "That's better'n _my_ record, Malcolm."

Malcolm gave him an abbreviated version of The Look. "That's just the _first page_, Trip. Most of this happened before he was posted to _Enterprise_. His psychological profile indicates he's tough, resourceful, a quick thinker, and a team player. That sounds more like the El-Sadr I'm familiar with. You said this all started about two weeks ago."

"Out of the blue. No warnin' whatsoever. He comes on-shift in the Armory and proceeds to pick a fight with Crewman Tanner. It didn't come to blows an' he did apologize afterwards. Then nothin' for several days, seemed to be over whatever was botherin' him. Then he kicks the crap out of Crewman Michaels during self-defense training—"

Malcolm pressed his lips together and kept his voice under rigid control. "Michaels never told me it had been El-Sadr that put him in Sickbay, just that he'd been clumsy and took a fall."

Trip shook his head and continued, "That's when I first talked to Travis because what I was tellin' him obviously wasn't sinkin' in. I don't know all the details of their talk, but whatever Travis told him was effective. All was peachy till this morning until he decked Riley."

"Does Hoshi know about this?"

"The captain? If she didn't before, she does now. I talked to her before coming down here to see about Riley. She went straight to El-Sadr's quarters for a chat." At Malcolm's expression, Trip raised his hands and said, "I sent Branway and Tsoramu with her, and she isn't a slouch in the self-defense department either."

"I know that," Malcolm snapped. Trip raised his eyebrows at his tone, and Malcolm sighed. "Sorry. It's just this whole thing doesn't make any sense. El-Sadr's annual physical is coming up; this would be the perfect opportunity to examine him."

"Make sure he hasn't been tampered with? I thought being paranoid was my department."

"One can never be too sure." Malcolm replied primly.

"_You _should've been in Security."

"Perhaps I should've," he answered, "but while the prospect of blowing things up might be appealing, _someone_ has to clean up the mess."

"And no one does it better than you do, Malcolm." Trip chuckled and patted Malcolm on the shoulder. "All right, I'll talk to Hoshi and tell her El-Sadr's been bumped to the head of the physicals list."

Malcolm gave him a thin smile. "Don't think that _your_ physical will be delayed because of this, Mister Tucker."

Trip grinned and snapped his fingers. "Aw, damn, I was hopin'. Well, see ya later."

"Until later." Malcolm sighed and gazed at El-Sadr's impassive face on the screen; the young man's black eyes glared back at him.He shook his head again and brought his attention to a more pressing matter.

He went back to studying the database of Luran physiology. Although their outward appearance was humanoid, their internal organs resembled more like the Vulcans. A Luran's heart was also on the right side of the abdomen and their muscles thicker and more defined, as befitted a planet with higher gravity than Earth. Their brain synapses fired at a higher rate than a Humans, which meant higher reaction times and amazing physical flexibility. Their immune systems were stronger, their healing rates phenomenal.

_My God, these people hardly even need doctors. _As a result, their medical technology was not as advanced as Earth's. They prided themselves on their physical prowess, like the Klingons, that they only accepted needles to inject medicines, not hyposprays. He shook his head in mixed awe and apprehension.

And Hoshi had to impress them with her linguistic and her whip-wielding abilities?

He was _not_ looking forward to this particular Away mission.


	4. Chapter 4

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**This is a critical chapter, folks. Things aren't right...some angst and some puzzling clues ahead.**

**R/S**

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**Four**

Crewman Saeed El-Sadr stood at rigid attention in front of Captain Hoshi Sato, his eyes riveted to a point above her head. Ensigns Branway and Tsoramu flanked the captain on either side, armed as per Lieutenant Commander Tucker's instructions, but Hoshi doubted either man would need their weapons. The anguish and dread in El-Sadr's eyes was directed not at her, but at himself.

"At ease, Crewman," she said in a quiet tone.

"Ma'am," he snapped and went to a modified parade rest.

"What happened in the Armory today? You didn't stop the training exercise after Lieutenant Commander Tucker ordered you to stop. Crewman Riley is all right, but Doctor Reed insisted on keeping him under observation for a couple of days." She noticed El-Sadr flinched at her words. "Tell me what's going on. This isn't the first time, is it?"

"No, ma'am," he replied. His tone was crisp, but she heard the slightest hesitation. "It isn't the first time. I just don't have an explanation for either case, Captain."

Hoshi raised her eyebrows. "No explanation whatsoever."

"No, ma'am. I'm not usually violent towards my fellow crewmen and officers. I'm trained to use restraint in my actions. I follow orders." El-Sadr's mouth tightened in anger. "It's just sometimes I feel this wave of rage come over me...and I can't stop it. I don't know where it comes from, ma'am. It's out of nowhere."

If it was anyone else, Hoshi would have been skeptical of the excuse, but she knew El-Sadr's reputation as an honorable, decent man. Trip wouldn't have handpicked him for his Armory staff otherwise. He was only telling the truth as well as he could. If El-Sadr couldn't understand what was going on, he admitted it.

"So it comes and goes at random times?"

"At first, it was just when we're doing phase pistol or hand-to-hand practice in the Armory ma'am, but lately..." Now his voice betrayed the fear he dared not show, "it's been more frequent. I volunteer to put myself under guard, ma'am, just in case I—"

She nodded. "You're a good man to do this, Saeed. I wish we could do otherwise, but—"she sighed and glanced at the two Security ensigns. "Take positions outside Mister El-Sadr's door, gentlemen. I'll notify Lieutenant Commander Tucker on the situation. And Saeed—"

"Ma'am?" he croaked.

"I'm going to ask Doctor Reed to schedule a full physical and mental evaluation on you. If there is a physical or emotional imbalance, he'll find it and correct it. I'm sure Lieutenant Commander Tucker will be glad to have you back as soon as possible."

He blew out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, ma'am."

"If you feel one of these...rages coming on, inform the guards and they'll let Sickbay know. I mean it, Saeed...I don't want you doing something stupid."

"I won't do anything dumb, Captain. You have my word."

"I accept your word." She nodded at him. "I'll have Commander Mayweather check up on you in a couple of hours."

"Thank you again, ma'am. I'm very grateful."

Hoshi left the guards outside El-Sadr's quarters, then let both Trip and Malcolm know of her orders. She hoped that Malcolm might get to the bottom of El-Sadr's problem; he was a valuable member of Security.

She sighed as she entered the lift. They were scheduled to arrive at the Luran Homeworld in less than twenty-four hours. Jon and she had planned to go over the speech again during her lunch break. Hoshi was fairly confident she had the accents, the intonations, and the cadences down pat, but she wanted to make sure. Many first contacts had become ugly after a linguistic or a cultural misunderstanding, and this was one contact she didn't want to screw up.

_Yeah, just like Huxley Terminus. God, that was a mess. _She had been First Officer of the _Madagascar_ then, and Captain Max Forrest had completed a successful trade negotiation, or so they had thought. Their communications officer had misinterpreted a single word in the First Councilor's speech. One word. The next thing they knew, a firefight had erupted. The Away team had been pinned down by laser fire...Hoshi remembered that day, as clearly as ever...

_I don't understand, _screamed the comm officer. _I heard what I heard...he wanted to use _us _as sacrifices for a successful treaty..._

_Whatever you heard or didn't hear, we're in trouble right now! Forrest said. He flipped open his communicator._ _Forrest to _Madagascar_...emergency beam-out..._

_Hoshi saw movement out of the corner of her eye and she realized the Huxley assassins had managed to circle around them and outflank them. She fired her phase pistol, hitting the lead man who had a target on Forrest_. _The comm officer went down in a hail of projectile fire; she hadn't even had time to scream. She glanced at the Tactical Officer, who was relaying orders to his team as they returned fire. _

_Her soul lurched as he identified the man. It wasn't Trip Tucker, but another man entirely._

_Someone else heartbreakingly familiar. _

_Then she felt something hot punch through her chest. She looked down and saw a smoking hole where her heart should've been...the phase pistol dropped out of her nerveless fingers..._

_Wait a minute...this didn't happen..._

It didn't happen like this, but the pain slammed into her and she dropped to her knees, her hand clutching her chest. Agony spread through her, all her nerves afire, her mind screamed in an incoherent babble. Dimly, she heard the lift doors hiss open, and people on the Bridge shouted at the sight of her crumpled on the floor of the lift.

"Bridge to Sickbay, medical emergency! Crash team to the Bridge!"

"Captain? Captain Sato? Can you hear me?"

"Dammit, we gotta do CPR. Jon, can you breathe for her?"

"Go ahead, Travis."

She felt someone—Travis?—pound on her chest, someone else—Jon?—breathing life-giving oxygen into her mouth. She wanted to tell them she was all right, that everything was going to be al right. Then she felt gentle hands on her face, on her temple, and warm energy flowed through her, soothing the pain.

_My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts..._

_T'Pol? _Hoshi thought. The rational, logical mind was an anchor in the chaos and she grabbed hold of it like a lifeline. The Vulcan caught and supported her.

_Stay with me, Captain. Do not surrender to the blackness. I am here with you. You are not alone. _

She felt a gentle wave pulling her away, but she dug her heels into the wet sand. Suddenly, her head broke the surface and she gasped at the cool, crisp air.

"She's breathing!" Jon cried, in that other world.

Then she caught sight of a distant shore in the sun. Her instincts told her to swim towards it, so she did as best as she could. She'd always loved the beach, but Malcolm didn't care much for it. It wasn't that he didn't like the water, but he was afraid of drowning. She never pushed him to join her in the water; he would always watch her from the shore, ever vigilant...

_He cares for you, Hoshi. He always has. He always will. _

_T'Pol, I saw him at Huxley, but he wasn't a doctor. He was..._

_It was not your reality, Hoshi. It was another. It is complicated to explain...perhaps one day I will tell you, when you are strong enough._

If she could have taken T'Pol by the shoulders and shaken her, she would have, Vulcan privacy be damned. _What the hell is that supposed to mean, T'Pol? I don't understand..._

_You do not need to. Not at this present moment. There is so much to do...we cannot allow you to know, not yet. Soon. I promise._

_But—_

_Forget now, Captain. _The Vulcan's tone was gentle and regretful. _Forget what you saw. My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts..._

_T'Pol! _But a gentle mist closed over her mind and despite herself, Hoshi Sato felt weariness overtake her. But strangely enough, she felt no fear, only a blessed peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Notes: The plot thickens. **

**Begoogled: Good theory. Let's see if it'll pan out. ;)**

**R/S and TnT

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**

**Five**

"Hoshi! Hoshi! Can you hear me?"

Ensign T'Pol watched as the captain's eyes fluttered open. The Vulcan's breath hung suspended as sense came into the almond-shaped brown eyes. Sato blinked, blinked again in confusion. Then her head turned towards the sound of the voice. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, her hand on Malcolm Reed's arm, her face wild with urgency.

"You wanted her to wake up," Trip Tucker said mildly. His face belied his dry remark.

"Malcolm! You're all right!" she burst out. "You aren't hurt!"

A puzzled look came over Reed's face. T'Pol thought, _Of course he wouldn't know what transpired between Sato and me on the Bridge, and it will stay that way. _She closed her eyes, as if in relief, but inside she was in turmoil. What exactly had happened to Sato? How did perceive the Other so easily? Who had sent her the Vision?

She must consult with Soval or T'Pau or T'Les. This affair had taken a drastic and dangerous turn. T'Pol opened her eyes again as Reed replied, "I'm fine, Hoshi. Are you all right?"

"I—" she paused and shook her head. "Never mind. What happened?"

"You passed out in the lift on your way to the Bridge. Don't you remember?"

Her brow wrinkled in thought. "I remember talking to El-Sadr, posting guards on him, thinking about the speech for the Lurans, getting into the lift, then—" T'Pol held her breath again as Sato fell silent. "Then nothing."

Malcolm's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Your blood sugar dipped to a dangerous level, Hoshi. That's why you passed out. I warned you that your meager breakfasts weren't enough to tide you over until lunchtime."

"But...I felt like my chest was going to explode, like—There's nothing wrong with my heart, is there?"

Malcolm caught Trip's concerned look. T'Pol forced herself to remain impassive, as a Vulcan should, but there was a painful lump within her throat. Had she not been successful after all?

"I can run an EKG if you want, Hoshi, but no, there wasn't anything wrong with your heart." Malcolm passed his scanner over her and read the results. "You're fine, Hoshi. I want you to take the rest of the day off, just in case, _and _I want you to get something substantial to eat."

Before she could object, Trip piped up, "T'Pol and I can take her to the Mess Hall, Malcolm. We'll make sure she eats a feast and then some. Right, T'Pol?"

"Certainly," she replied. She met Sato's stare evenly; the captain looked as if she had just realized T'Pol was there. "I believe that the captain had scheduled a dinner meeting tonight with myself and Lieutenant Commander Tucker."

"See, at least we can still have it, even though it'll be a bit earlier than we expected," Trip said cheerfully. "As long as we have no objections from the good doctor."

"None at all." Malcolm put a hand on Hoshi's shoulder. "I'd like to give you a monitoring device, just in case, but after that, I'll leave you in Lieutenant Commander Tucker's and Ensign T'Pol's capable hands."

Sato sighed and relented. "All right, Malcolm. Just in case."

Trip helped the captain down from the biobed and the three of them walked to the Mess Hall. T'Pol watched Sato as she asked Trip what had happened on the ship while she'd been unconscious. Sato's hand rubbed a spot under her breastbone, as if it still pained her.

"So, what would ya like, Cap'n?" Trip asked as they got into the mess hall line.

"I know I should eat, but I'm not particularly hungry." Sato gave the selection a dubious eye.

"Maybe soup to start with. Let's see...lentil, New England clam chowder, _plomeek_."

"_Plomeek _sounds good." She added a small salad, a plate of broiled chicken and corn, and chocolate cheesecake for dessert. T'Pol also chose a salad and a glass of _saya_ juice. Trip selected a stew of some sort, with a side helping of mashed potatoes and greens. Crewmen called out to Captain Sato as they made their way to the Captain's Mess. She paused to reassure them she was all right and there was no permanent damage.

"Curious," T'Pol murmured.

"What?" Trip asked.

"That the news of the captain's 'incident' has spread as quickly as it has."

"Never underestimate the speed of the ship's grapevine," he told her. "They say gossip spreads faster than warp speed. It's amazin' what you can hear if you just listen to what's goin' on around you."

T'Pol gave him a sage nod. "Vulcans do not gossip."

He gave her a "You-gotta-be-kiddin'-me' look. "Sure they don't. Rational and logical and all that, right?"

"Gossip is an unproductive waste of valuable time and energy that can be directed to other pursuits, Lieutenant Commander."

Trip shrugged. "Think of it like intelligence gatherin', then. Humans got a sayin', 'Loose lips sink ships'. Trust me, sometimes it works to use your ears." He grinned. "Rounded or pointy-like ones, shape doesn't matter."

She raised an eyebrow at his comment, but refrained from replying. Soon, the three of them were seated at the Captain's Table, discussing the food from various cultures. Sato asked T'Pol about certain items of Vulcan cuisine, such as _gespar_, a Vulcan vegetable; and _pok tar_, a dish normally served at evening meal. From there, T'Pol went into other Vulcan customs, such as the _kahs-wan_, the Rite of Passage.

"Kinda like a marathon through the desert," Trip said.

"It is a test of a Vulcan's adaptive abilities," T'Pol corrected him. "Without the ability to find water or seek shelter, one cannot survive long in the desert. Those who pass the _kahs-wan_ are accorded every right as a Vulcan adult."

Hoshi finished her _plomeek _soup and set it aside. "There are those who don't pass, aren't there?"

T'Pol nodded solemnly. "Yes. Some are claimed by the desert. Others must make multiple attempts to pass the test, but they eventually succeed."

"Reminds me of survival training in the Australian Outback. You don't mess around out there, either," Trip commented.

The early dinner passed in pleasant conversation. For their part, Trip and Hoshi described some Human customs that T'Pol was curious about. She was grateful for the explanations, for she was truly confused by some Human behavior. Although Chief Engineer Phlox had been studying Human culture himself, there were times when the Denobulan was as puzzled as she was. At first, T'Pol asked general questions, then narrowed her focus. She asked about various Earth martial arts styles and their applications. Trip Tucker was proficient in several styles and Hoshi had concentrated mostly on aikido and tae kwon do. T'Pol used her hands to demonstrate other techniques for the _ahn-woon_.

The entire time, she was well aware of Tucker's gaze on her. It unnerved her more than she was willing to admit to herself. _Highly skilled and highly emotional. A dangerous combination. _Soval's warning was uppermost in her mind, but she reassured herself that she was more than an equal match for the Armory Officer.

Soon, the conversation turned to Vulcan exploration of the stars. Sato put aside her empty tray and listened to T'Pol as she outlined the early history of her people's ship design. This was her passion, the ship navigational and helm systems that allowed her people into the stars.

"I'm curious, why didn't you formally go into engineering, then? You sound like you enjoy building ship systems," Sato commented.

She inclined her head. "I enjoy new permutations of existing equipment, integrating new technologies to improve their performance, Captain. The Vulcan Engineering Academy teaches its students the basic concepts and what has performed well for millennia."

Trip rolled his eyes. "In other words, if it ain't broke, don't fix it." At her questioning look, he clarified, "They stick with efficiency and what works right now. Why mess with success?"

"Indeed. Their thinking has been...orthodox. Any new developments must be thoroughly tested and proved before its use is accepted by the general population." Yes, that was true, but she couldn't totally repress a stab of bitterness.

He raised his eyebrows. "I guess your ideas haven't met with much approval from your people, then."

She just looked at him. "Several of my proposals have been taken under consideration by the Vulcan Ship Operations Ministry, Lieutenant Commander, but haven't been implemented yet. I have confidence they will be approved in due time."

"Has this had any effect on your career, Ensign?" Sato asked, her voice full of curiosity. "With your experience, you should be at a higher rank than you are."

T'Pol turned to address her, her face serene, even as her heart twisted in her gut. "I was not originally geared towards serving on an Earth ship, Captain, and thus hadn't joined the Vulcan military per se. This is considered a...secondary career for me, and as such, your Starfleet has taken that under consideration. I believe Jonathan Archer is in a similar situation, despite his years as a diplomat under Ambassador Soval's tutelage."

"So you were also a civilian who joined military service, like Jon."

"Lieutenant Archer and I have many things in common, Captain." T'Pol noticed that Trip shifted uncomfortably in his seat at that particular remark. _Fascinating_, she thought.

"I see." Sato nodded to herself, as if confirming something . "I appreciate your willingness to talk about your people and your culture with us, Ensign. I hope you won't object if we do this more often."

"Of course not, Captain. I find it as intellectually stimulating to discuss the similarities and differences between us." She heard the implicit dismissal in Sato's tone and she got up from her seat. "With the Captain's permission, I will finish the rest of my shift on the Bridge."

"Go ahead, Ensign. And thank you...for helping me when I collapsed."

T'Pol gazed into the captain's dark eyes, but they gave nothing away. She only bowed her head in acknowledgment. "I am gratified to see you well, Captain. Have a pleasant evening, Captain, Lieutenant Commander Tucker."

She turned and left the Captain's Mess, but she couldn't help but wonder, _She shouldn't remember anything. Just how much _does_ Captain Sato remember? _

* * *

Later, she sat in front of her communications terminal and checked her messages. To her surprise, there was a note from her mother, T'Les, the head of the Vulcan Science Ministry. T'Pol read the terse words on the screen, then swiftly made her decision. She hailed the bridge.

"Ensign Marshalls."

"Ensign, I request an immediate channel to the Vulcan Science Ministry in Shi'Kahr, specifically to my mother's office. She is Doctor T'Les. It is a...family matter."

Marshall's voice became conciliatory. "Of course, Ensign. One moment...I'll connect you with Vulcan control."

"My gratitude, Ensign." If she were Human, she would have drummed her fingers on her table top in pure impatience. Being Vulcan, she ran through a series of mental exercises to calm her sudden anxiety. Her screen lightened again, but instead of T'Les, the imposing figure of Minister V'Lar appeared.

"Ensign T'Pol," V'Lar said. T'Pol's heart nosedived at the cold, formal tone of her godmother's voice. V'Lar was a close friend of T'Les and the family; T'Pol considered her a role model. The older woman had a warmth unnatural to most "normal" Vulcans, but that warmth was absent now.

"How is my mother?" She didn't bother hiding the concern in her voice.

"She was not seriously injured, T'Pol, and we are trying to track down the assassin. We believe it may have been someone at the Science Academy; Security Minister T'Pau is questioning witnesses and gathering evidence as we speak."

"T'Pau has always been the model of efficiency," T'Pol remarked.

"Indeed." The brief flare of humor was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Your mother and I agreed that you should remain on _Enterprise_ for the time being. Your mission objectives remain unchanged. Make sure you are included on the Away team to Luran and that Sato, Tucker _and_ Reed survive the encounter."

"What if he remembers?"

V'Lar's eyebrow went up and her tone became as warm as T'Pol remembered. There was a strange twinkle in her eye as she replied, "Then he should be helpful to us, wouldn't you agree?"


	6. Chapter 6

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Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup 

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**R/S and TnT**

**

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**Six**

"_Ve'eesa famu Dyen-bellea Sai njava!" _Crack! (With the chime of bells)

"_Aesam bi, sjava tu famu seeq bh'lava!" _Crack! (Ding!)

"_Ui be, tu ghra'aan rhi rho be sbahi bi no, porsa ge Sai njava!" _Crack! Crack! Crack! (Ding! Ding! Ding!)

Jonathan Archer clapped his hands as Hoshi snapped the _ahn-woon_ over her head in a salute. "That was perfect, Captain!"

Hoshi sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow, making the chimes on the end of the _ahn-woon _jangle in disharmony. "That's exhausting. I only hope I don't actually hit anyone. This thing packs quite a punch."

"I have confidence in your new-found skills, Captain Sato," T'Pol commented as she nodded in satisfaction. "I would suppose that even the Lurans will decline to get too close."

Hoshi chuckled as she handed T'Pol the _ahn-woon_. "Thanks, Ensign. Let's get ready...we make planetfall in less than eight hours."

The three of them left the cargo bay. Hoshi and Jon discussed last-minute details of the mission. The Away team would consist of Hoshi, Jon, Trip, Malcolm and T'Pol. Hoshi wanted T'Pol as the shuttlepod pilot and for coaching on the _ahn-woon_. T'Pol had accepted the assignment with grace; Hoshi thought she detected a sense of relief from the Vulcan as well.

"I would've wanted you to go in any case, T'Pol," Hoshi said gently. "I value your counsel."

The Vulcan's face flushed slightly, but she recovered her balance. "Thank you, Captain."

"I'll see you ladies a bit later," Jon said. "I need to help Trip with his armor and weaponry. He looks like an overbuilt tank. I think he said something about rigging up a platform with wheels so he can wheel himself around. It'd be faster than walking."

Hoshi couldn't help but laugh. T'Pol raised her eyebrow, but her eyes shone with sympathy. "Go ahead, Jon. Make sure Trip doesn't hurt himself."

He laughed and waved farewell as he took the turbolift towards the Armory. Hoshi glanced at T'Pol and said, "Meet me back here in six hours, Ensign."

"Yes, Captain."

Hoshi went to her quarters and activated her computer. She passed her eyes over the copies of the speech one more time, then decided to take a shower and put on a fresh uniform. A soft whine froze her in her tracks. "What the—"

At the foot of her bed, along the side of the wall, was an oval shaped nest of blankets. A nose poked out from under the comforter, followed by a pair of dark eyes and floppy ears. Hoshi blinked as Porthos whined again, padded softly over to her and looked up at her with a hopeful expression.

"What are you doing in my quarters, Porthos?" She knelt and patted the beagle on the head. The doggie bed and food dish looked as if they'd been there a while. Had Jon moved Porthos's supplies to her cabin for some reason? It didn't make any sense. She picked up the dog and moved to the intercom. "Sato to Archer."

"Archer here, Captain."

"I think you're missing a dog. He's in my quarters."

There was a pause, then Jon said, "What? How'd he get there?"

"I don't know, but his bed and his food dish are in here too. You didn't move his stuff in here, did you?"

"No, ma'am." Jon sounded confused. "I'll come there and get Porthos right away."

"No rush, Jon. He seems to feel at home here. Come on down after you help Trip out."

At the sound of his name, Trip hollered, "I can't believe I gotta wear this, Hoshi! I look like a tank with legs. I can't see through this freakin' helmet—"

"Sorry, Trip, the Lurans were pretty specific about security officers' garments—"

"I'm gonna file a protest!"

Hoshi stifled her laughter. "Sorry, Trip. At least you aren't going to wear that forever."

The Armory officer sputtered in frustration and anger. Jon came back on the line with, "I might be a while, Captain."

"Like I said, no rush. We'll be waiting. Sato out." She glanced down at Porthos, whose tail thumped against her arm. "Sorry, boy, I don't have any cheese. You're just going to have to wait for your master."

Porthos whined, but stopped when he saw Hoshi's expression.

* * *

Exactly six hours later, Hoshi stepped into Shuttlebay Two. She wore a sleeveless black dress, fitted at the waist with a red sash. It came to the top of her white calfskin boots. A red cape around her neck completed the ensemble, and the _ahn-woon_ was coiled and attached to her belt. Silence fell over the deck as people saw their captain. Jon blinked and T'Pol looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Malcolm had just ducked through the shuttlepod's hatch; he turned and stuck his head out to see what the silence was all about. The doctor's mouth dropped in utter shock. 

"Good Lord," he whispered hoarsely.

"The Lurans were specific about my garb," Hoshi admitted with a shrug and she blushed under his scrutiny. "Just like Trip's."

Trip Tucker waddled through the shuttle deck, his metal helmet and leg guards clanking like a ghost on Halloween night. Shiny chains criss-crossed his chest and wrapped around his waist, and daggers adorned both hip sheaves, both ankle sheaves, two holders on his upper arms, and a huge sword perched from his back like a plume of peacock feathers. Hoshi stifled her laughter at Trip's outraged voice. It echoed within the helmet as if he was in a deep cave.

"This is not funny!" he ranted. "I look like a zombie in a bad horror movie."

"You don't have to wear the helmet until we're down there," said Jon, and he helped the Armory officer remove the helmet. Trip's normally immaculate blond hair was mussed and stuck up in all directions. Trip blew out a relieved breath and tried to flatten his hair.

"Quite...becoming for a man who specializes in weaponry," Malcolm said, deadpan.

"Geez, Mal. I'd like to see _you _try to handle all this," Trip shot back. "I'm gonna get a hernia if I breathe wrong."

"At least that would be treatable," Malcolm muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Trip and Hoshi to hear. Trip only glared at him, but he responded with "The Look". Finally, Trip's face dissolved into laughter and Malcolm smirked. The doctor helped Trip into the shuttlepod with T'Pol's assistance.

"Disaster Twins," Jon said with a grin. "I think we'd better keep an eye on them while we're down there."

Hoshi nodded. "Most definitely."

* * *

The shuttle ride down to the planet's surface was uneventful. T'Pol received landing instructions from the High Council and brought them up on the screen. Malcolm made a noise of disapproval. 

"What is it?" Jon asked.

"It appears we're going to land in a circular clearing with Lurans on all sides."

Trip nodded, making his chains rattle again. "We'll be surrounded. I don't like it, Captain. If something goes wrong, we don't have a way out."

Hoshi glanced at Malcolm, then Trip. If Malcolm as a _doctor_ could see the obvious...suddenly, Hoshi saw in her mind's eye a different man, wearing the red stripes of an Armory officer, instead of the blue of Medical...she blinked, and things returned to normal. She shook her head and brought her attention to the matter at hand.

"T'Pol, stay as close to the shuttlepod as possible. If we need to run for it, at least one of us will be able to warn _Enterprise_."

"But Captain—"

"That's an order, Ensign."

T'Pol nodded grudgingly and answered, "Yes, Captain."

Just before they landed, Malcolm went around with a hypospray and administered a dose of tri-ox to each member of the away team. The heavier gravity and thinner atmosphere could affect their health, so he wanted the extra security. Just before Trip cycled open the hatch, he put away the hyposprays and took his medical pouch filled with hypodermic needles instead.

Trip wriggled out with a horrible clanging and grinding, fully armed with daggers, sword, chains and helmet. A roar of approval came from the assembled Lurans and they chanted, "_Fawh-der. Fawh-der." _The word for warrior. He carefully bowed to the Lurans, nearly toppling over in the process, but he caught himself at the last moment. Slowly, he turned and offered his hand to Hoshi, who was the second one out of the shuttlepod.

The ring of Lurans began to tighten around them, but Hoshi uncoiled her _ahn-woon_ and whipped it around her. A startled murmur spread over the crowd, but they withdrew to a safe distance. Trip glanced at her; although she couldn't see his grin, his eyes sparkled through the visor.

"_Ne'jo shree lehan'di_," Hoshi announced in a loud voice, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder as custom demanded. "_Uo dre'mie skell wa brun'dei chu."_ And with the last syllable, she snapped the _ahn-woon_ to her right, missing Jon by mere inches. Jon flinched involuntarily, but didn't move a muscle.

As she went on with the speech, the murmuring of the Lurans grew louder and louder. Hoshi switched to the second dialect without pausing and snapped her whip in the direction of the largest Luran, who jumped backwards with ease, despite the heavier gravity. Trip leaned casually on the side of the shuttlepod, one hand on the dagger on his right side. To all appearances, he looked proud and vigilant as he watched his mistress's back. Hoshi could see the fatigue in Trip's blue eyes; the heavy armor was already taking a toll on him. Her sharp ears picked up Jon and Malcolm's conversation among all the voices.

"Jon, about two o'clock from us. The two big chaps with the broadswords."

"I see them, Doctor. What's the guy on the right doing with his hands?"

"Looks like signals of some kind. I think he's telling his fellows to be ready."

"How do you know that, Doctor?"

There was a pause, then Malcolm replied, "I've been around Trip and his armory team too long."

Hoshi slipped into the third part of her speech and cracked her _ahn-woon_ to her right, between the two Lurans that Malcolm had indicated. Both Lurans jumped to avoid the heavy bells as they flew past them. Then she reached the last three lines.

"_Ve'eesa famu Dyen-bellea Sai njava!" _CRACK!

"_Aesam bi, sjava tu famu seeq bh'lava!" _CRACK!

"_Ui be, tu ghra'aan rhi rho be sbahi bi no, porsa ge Sai njava!" _CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

A sudden silence fell over the clearing as Hoshi saluted with the _ahn-woon_. Then, amazingly, the horde of Lurans dropped to their knees and began clapping their hands and thumping their weapons on the ground. Hoshi glanced at Jon, who nodded in approval.

"I think they understood," Jon said with relief.

"Mistress!" called one of the Lurans that Malcolm had noticed before. "Please, will you and your _fawh-der_ and your mates come with us and celebrate our friendship?"

Per tradition, Hoshi glanced at Trip, who straightened from the shuttlepod. "Do we have an assurance of my Mistress's safety?" he shouted. "I will not allow her to leave my sight!"

"Yes, we swear it!" roared the Lurans.

Jon repeated the question and received an affirmative response. Then Malcolm, his clipped English accent harsh in the thin air. The Lurans roared their approval a third time.

"The Mistress's mate is the Healer!" jeered another Luran. "How can he protect her?"

The rumble grew angry. Hoshi saw Trip and T'Pol surround her in a tight circle, with Jon and Malcolm on the opposite side. "Easy, Malcolm," Jon murmured. "You know their opinion on doctors here."

"How would they know Doctor Reed is the captain's mate?" T'Pol queried. Her eyes scanned the crowd with heightened awareness. "Neither he nor the Captain has given any indication of such a relationship."

"I dunno. Maybe a lucky guess?" Trip muttered, but the Armory officer didn't sound convinced.

_But he's _not _my mate._ Hoshi glanced at Malcolm, but he scanned the furious mob with a calm eye, as if he faced hostile aliens on a daily basis. Suddenly, she heard Trip's voice in her mind saying, _I'm glad I don't have to worry about our CMO defending himself._

Hoshi saw a blur out of the corner of her eye. One of the Lurans—the one who had jeered at Malcolm—launched himself in Malcolm's direction. Trip grabbed one of his daggers, but before he could throw it, Malcolm had ducked under the bigger man's arm, then drove his own fist into the Luran's jaw. The Luran staggered back, his broadsword swinging wildly.

"Look out!" Malcolm yelled and pushed Hoshi out of the way of the sword. Trip let the dagger fly, but it only glanced off the Luran's armor. Another Luran swung some kind of club at Trip, but the heavy chains warded off the blow with a dull ring.

The melee had begun.

* * *

The heavy chimes of an _ahn-woon_ rang through the air as the end of it wound itself around the other wrist of Trip's attacker. T'Pol pivoted and flung the Luran against the side of the shuttlepod. Trip nodded his thanks at her, then flung his other dagger at a Luran directly behind T'Pol. She ducked and rolled out of the way. 

_To your left, T'Pol!_ She automatically flung her weapon at another attacker, wrapped the end of it around his ankle and pulled him off-balance. Then as her body reacted without conscious thought, she suddenly realized that he was hearing Trip's voice in her head, seeing images through his eyes, understanding his warnings before he shouted them.

_How can this be?_ Utter shock went through her mind. At first, she thought she was imagining things, but then she saw the Luran creeping up in Trip's blind spot---_where she should not have seen him---_and she lashed out. The Luran went down with a muttered oath and Trip whirled around in surprise, only to see the man writhing on the ground and holding his wrist.

She had no time to ponder the strange phenomenon, for she had her hands full watching both Trip's and Hoshi's backs. She had lost Jon and Malcolm in the fray and she hoped both men were all right. Then she saw another blur go past Jon Archer and to her horror, head directly for the captain.

* * *

Hoshi saw Jon's Universal Translator go flying as the flat side of a sword knocked it out of his hand. He rolled out of the way and came up with a punch that made the Luran stagger backward. That was all she saw as a huge arm came around her waist and jerked her backwards. 

"Hoshi!" Something whizzed through the air and buried itself in her captor's arm. The bigger man screamed in pain and let go. She realized what it was: the sharp end of a hypodermic needle. She whirled around and knocked her would-be captor down with her _ahn-woon_.

"STOP!"

The battle stopped abruptly, as if someone had thrown a switch. The man who had tried to abduct Hoshi climbed unsteadily to his feet. He glanced at Hoshi, then walked right past her. With a smooth motion, he grabbed Malcolm by the front of his jumpsuit and hoisted him in the air. Trip began to move, but fatigue had already taken a toll on him, and he gasped in pain.

"Put him down," Hoshi ordered, enunciating each word clearly.

The Luran ignored her and only glared at Malcolm, who glared back. The staring match lasted a full minute before a wide grin broke out on the Luran's face. "You have warrior's blood, Healer," he said, his tone deadly. "I underestimated you. I should have known you would defend your Mistress with your life, if needed. Your claws still draw blood."

Malcolm managed a smirk. "I see you noticed."

The Luran growled and shook him once. The needle in his arm didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. "Keep your sharp points to yourself, Healer, and we will get along just fine. Understand?"

"Clearly," Malcolm replied, but there was no mistaking the menace in his own voice. _If you pull this bloody crap again, I will shove those hypodermic needles down your throat. _The Luran's grin widened at the unspoken threat, then he let Malcolm down with an abrupt thump.

He turned to Hoshi as if nothing had happened. "Come and share a meal with us. You have all proved yourselves worthy. Bring your mate, your _fawh-dehr_ and his mate, and your translator. We have much to discuss." And he strode through the crowd, the Lurans following him in a wave.

Trip glanced at T'Pol, who raised an eyebrow. "What a welcome reception," Trip groused and winced again under his armor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Notes: One of my biggest gripes about the series was how everything seemed to happen only when Alpha shift was on the Bridge and you never got to see any other members of the crew do their jobs (and I'm sure they did it competently). So the Beta/Gamma shifters get to shine a little.**

**I also gave Kelby a first name: Richard

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**Seven**

Commander Travis Mayweather breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Captain Sato's report. He'd come close to sending a full Security squad when she'd told him about the melee on the planet. Now he was shaking his head at the whole incident.

"They wanted to test the Away Team's devotion to me." Hoshi's voice was dry. "I'm not sure they actually wanted to harm us, but I think they'd expected to flee in the shuttlepod at the first sign of trouble. When we stood our ground, I think we earned their respect."

He whistled softly and shook his head. "Man, that was a risky decision, Hoshi."

"We didn't have much of a choice. High Chieftain Mu'harex has invited us to a celebratory meal at his fortress. I'm hoping the negotiations aren't going to last very long, but we'll see. The Lurans seem hospitable."

"Let us know if you need anything."

"You know I will, Travis. Sato, out."

Travis shook his head as he closed the channel. It was amazing at how many scrapes Hoshi had been in and was still able to get out of it relatively unscathed. Even the Disaster Twins had come out of the fight without major injuries, and Jon Archer was also unhurt. _Luck of the stars_, he thought. _It's kinda appropriate that her name means 'Star'._

He heard a muted sniffle from behind him. Travis swiveled around in the command chair to see Lieutenant Varianis wiping her face with the back of her hand. He frowned and glanced around the Bridge; no one seemed to notice. So he quietly made his way to the science station.

"Hey, Ellen, you okay?"

She shook her head and buried her face within her hands. Travis put a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, Ellen. Over here." He escorted her to Hoshi's Ready Room. She collapsed onto the couch; Travis sat next to her, but he was at a loss on what to do next, so he only waited until she calmed down enough to speak.

"I'm sorry, Commander—"

"What's wrong? You don't usually burst into tears on the Bridge."

"No, I don't sir, but—" Varianis took a deep breath and tried to stifle her sobs. Travis massaged her shoulder, giving her time to recover. Long minutes passed as the science officer slowly pulled herself together. Finally, her sobs quieted and her shoulders stopped shaking, but her face remained hidden from Travis.

"Ellen?"

"I'm sorry, Commander, I don't know what came over me," she murmured. "I promise it won't happen again."

"Hey, if you want to talk about it—"He broke off as he saw Varianis's eyes grow hazy and unfocused. Then she did something unexpected...she started laughing. It wasn't the laugh of a person who'd heard a joke or of someone finding a pleasant surprise. Her laugh was wild and tinged with madness.

Travis kept his eyes on her as he moved to the com panel on the wall. "Mayweather to Sickbay."

"Cutler," came Liz's voice, but she sounded distracted and worried.

"Liz, something's wrong with Ellen Varianis. She's gone loopy all of a sudden."

Cutler didn't sound surprised. "Bring her down, Travis. She isn't the first and I have the bad feeling she won't be the last."

* * *

Travis stared as Varianis thrashed within the bed restraints, Liz had given her a sedative, but it didn't seem to have any effect at first. Liz was reluctant to give her a higher dose, for it had been the maximum allowed for a human. Slowly, Ellen's body relaxed and her face became more peaceful.

Next to Ellen was Chief Engineer Phlox. Unlike the science officer, the chief engineer lay placidly on the biobed; he even snored a little. The Denobulan had been in Engineering when his hibernation had taken him unawares, and he'd dropped like a rock. Lieutenant Rostov had attempted to catch him before he'd hit the floor—and got flattened in the process.

"I thought the chief's snooze wasn't for another six weeks," Rostov said as he perched on the exam table with a ice pack on the side of his face.

"That's right, Mike," Liz said with a worried expression. "Something triggered his hibernation early."

"That's not gonna harm him, will it?" Travis asked.

"No, but that'll throw off his schedule." Liz moved over to her computer and checked the medical logs. "We've had a steady stream of people coming in since Doctor Reed headed for the surface. Minor things...clumsy accidents. A couple of memory lapses. People coming on-shift in the wrong departments...Commander Capetl found himself in the Armory instead of Astrometrics, for example."

"Weird," Rostov added. "Richard Kelby and I had to chase McIntyre off the engineering deck. He was rambling about how he was convinced that he knew more about warp technology than either of us. How the hell can a _steward_ know more about the warp core than two trained engineers?"

Travis rolled his eyes. "Delusions of grandeur, maybe?"

"Travis, you know Sean McIntyre. He's one of the most self-effacing guys on the ship," Liz objected, punching him lightly in the arm. "I took a brain scan and there was nothing wrong."

"Drunk?" asked Rostov.

"He's a teetotaler. Doesn't even touch alcohol."

Travis shook his head. "You said it, Mike, weird. Do you think this'll put the ship in any danger?"

"The minor things, no, but—" Liz nodded at Varianis and Phlox. The science officer and the chief engineer slept quietly. "I'm concerned that it might get worse."

Travis sighed and shook his head. "I'll make a general shipwide announcement. Mike, you and Richard keep an eye on the Engineering department and I'll tell Ensign Rickover in the Armory to watch his guys. I'll get back to the Bridge. The captain's in negotiation right now, so it's going to be a while before I can talk to her."

Before he left Sickbay, he glanced at Ellen. Her madness both shocked and worried him. What was happening?

By the time he reached the Bridge, Gamma shift had already taken over for Beta, and a new slate of Bridge officers sat at their stations. Travis told them that Ellen Varianis was in Sickbay, but should be all right, then he made that shipwide announcement and informed the Armory.

Hours passed with no other incidents and Travis tried to relax. With Phlox hibernating and Trip on the planet, the next person in the line of command was Lieutenant Trace, the relief Armory officer on the Bridge and Trip's second. Travis caught Bryan Trace's quiet grin at the Weapons station. And for a second, Travis thought he saw another man sitting there, someone who was the exact opposite of the tall, red-haired man sitting there now. Then Travis blinked again and Trace was running yet another combat simulation on his board.

_Whoa. I've got to be more tired than I thought. _Suddenly, he felt a slight shudder through the deck under his feet. "Engineering?" he barked into the comm. "What was that?"

"I don't know, Commander," replied Kelby's voice. "There's some sort of surge—"

"From where, Richard?"

And the helm station in front of Travis went up in a shower of sparks, the explosion throwing the relief helmsman and navigator to the floor. Crewman Norby at communications dragged the helmsman out of the way, while Trace vaulted the railing and did the same to the navigator.

"Medical team to the Bridge!" Travis yelled and dove for the helm. "Trace, take navigation!"

"Yes, sir!" Trace shouted back and settled into the navigator's chair as Travis took the helm.

Travis glanced over the controls. He had a rudimentary idea on how to pilot a starship; he'd gotten some cross-training at Hoshi's insistence, but science was his strong suit, not ship operations. His hands flew over the console, stabilizing _Enterprise_'s position, compensating for her drift...by the time he'd actually thought about what he was doing, he'd already done it.

He stared at the controls under his hands. _How did I know what to do? I'm not—_He felt someone's eyes on him and realized Trace had been staring at him. The relief Armory officer flushed and brought his eyes down to the navigation board, then back up at Travis.

"Good job, sir." Trace's voice was barely audible.

Travis held his gaze. "You too, Bryan?"

Trace knew what he was asking. "Yes, sir."

"Not a navigator? Usually, anyway?"

"Hell, no...sir."

Travis looked up at Liz Cutler, who was tending to a groggy helmsman. "How are they, Lieutenant Cutler?" he asked formally.

"Just minor burns on both of them, Commander. I'll need to bring them both to Sickbay to treat them, but they should be able to return to duty."

"Do whatever you need to for them. Lieutenant Trace and I will hold down the fort here till they get back."

Liz gave him a look of surprise at seeing him at the helm station, but she covered it with a "Yes, sir."

Again, he and Trace exchanged a look. The Armory Officer-turned-navigator said it for both of them. "I hadn't thought we'd be this good at multi-tasking...sir."


	8. Chapter 8

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Things come to a head here. Get ready for a wild ride in the next couple of chapters!**

**A short explanation on naval terms: In the US Navy, a **line officer **is one in the chain of command and part of the captain's **Flag Staff **on a ship like an aircraft carrier (on this _Enterprise_, the line officers in order would be Hoshi, Travis, Phlox, Trip, Jon and T'Pol.) A **staff officer **is part of the CO's Flag Staff, but is not in the line of command. This includes the Chief Medical Officer (Malcolm). If Hoshi had a personal Yeoman (like Kirk had Yeoman Rand) or a personal steward, they too would be considered part of the CO's Flag Staff, even if they were enlisted and not officers. (I suppose Crewmen Cunningham and Daniels would've technically counted for Captain Archer). Keep that in mind in the next few chapters.**

**My father used to be a steward and a chef (and he had retired as a Chief), so I asked him about this. :)**

**Rating: T**

**R/S and TnT

* * *

**

**Eight**

The celebration at the High Chieftain's fortress was in full swing. Warriors all around reclined on thick mats on the floor as servants came around with food and drink. Musicians pounded on drums with more enthusiasm than actual skill. The air rang with conversation, laughter and snatches of song. The thick scent of spicy musk hung heavily and clung to everything in the hall.

T'Pol was getting a headache from it all. Her sensitive sense of smell was assaulted by the aroma and her ears rang from the drums. She had been surprised at the choice of dishes from the High Chieftain's kitchens, for there were plenty of vegetarian dishes with the meat platters, and fresh spring water to drink. The servants were most accommodating to her different needs.

They must have asked Jonathan Archer about her preferences. It was the logical reason.

"A bit much for you, darlin'?"

She winced, unsure of whether it was because of her surroundings or Trip's obvious concern. "This celebration is...overly exciting, Lieutenant Commander."

"We're at a party, so call me Trip." He stood up from his mat and added, "C'mon, I gotta stretch my legs. 'Sides, the captain told us to mingle, so we might as well mingle."

T'Pol glanced at his hand. "I do not think it's advisable to—"

"T'Pol. Can't disobey the captain's direct order. Not to mention the fact that Old Mean and Ugly over there's been eyein' you somethin' fierce. I know that bein' my 'mate' is supposed to give you some kinda protection, but I don't wanna take any chances."

She looked behind her and saw a burly Luran reclining on his mat, his eyes glittering with purpose. The man's thoughts were clear on his face; a sly smile passed over his lips. "I see the logic in your suggestion...Trip," she said, and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet, then gently guided her through the chaos on the floor. She was aware of Trip's left hand at the small of her back and tried to shore up her battered mental shields.

"Valhalla," mused Trip. Although he was given a reprieve of wearing the cumbersome armor in the High Chieftain's hall, he had kept the daggers in his belt. His right hand touched the hilt of one of the daggers.

"Excuse me?"

"This all reminds me of Valhalla."

"I am not familiar with the term."

A slight smile played on his lips. "It's a place in Norse mythology on Earth. After warriors die on the battlefield, the Valkyries take them to a feasting hall where they party for all eternity. I thought this place kinda reminded me of Valhalla."

"Ah, I see." T'Pol replied. She glanced over the room with a sharp eye. All evening, she had felt a strange undercurrent in the air. It had taken her a long time to identify it: _anticipation. For what?_ She hadn't been the only one to feel it.

They circulated around the room several times, chatting with the warriors and sharing outrageous stories of their exploits. T'Pol resisted rolling her eyes at the slight embellishment of the details of his stories.

"He is quite the storyteller, isn't he?" came Malcolm Reed's quiet voice at his shoulder. "If he writes half of them down, he'd make a fortune."

She frowned; how did he know what she was thinking? Trip chuckled and turned to face Malcolm. "Yeah, but words on a PADD don't do it justice. You gotta actually _see_ it bein' told, Mal. The effect isn't as great if you don't."

The doctor nodded as he gazed out at the festivities. "Indeed. I feel like I've been put in the middle of a real-life production of _Beowulf_."

"You mean the part where the warriors party themselves senseless?"

"I was thinking more of what happens afterwards."

T'Pol glanced sharply at him. She was familiar with the _Beowulf_ saga. After the warriors had fallen into a deep slumber, the monster Grendel came into the hall, kidnapped one of them, killed him and had him for a meal. "You feel a sense of foreboding, Doctor?"

He met her glance and she saw something within his eyes. "Call it instinct, Ensign."

Trip nodded in agreement and said, "I _told_ you that you oughta transfer into the Armory, Mal."

Something stirred in Reed's eyes at the words and T'Pol held her breath. "Perhaps."

Trip blinked at his reply. "You're serious about a career change?"

He smirked and said, "Perhaps."

"I'll be damned. Maybe we can talk more 'bout this later, if you're actually interested." And T'Pol heard the words he didn't say aloud. _Jeebus, I think he _is _serious. Wonder what brought that on. I can see him as an Armory officer, but I hadn't thought he'd really do it._

She blinked and looked at him, but he was still talking with Malcolm. How was she hearing him again? He was Human; most Humans weren't telepathic, much less able to communicate mind-to-mind. Trip didn't seem to realize that she had overheard his thoughts.Her mind pondered the ramifications of her discovery.

_What connection do I have with this man? Why can I hear his thoughts? _A disturbing thought came to her: _Why do I feel like I've known him before? In another time, another place? It is not logical. _Her lips came together in a ghost of a smile. _Of course, many things have their own sense of logic._

"I should go back to Hoshi. Jon's watching her back, but I trust the High Chieftain about as much as I can throw him right now. He's been given her some looks that I find disturbing."

"Yeah, and you're already on his crap list, Mal. After all, you're the one who poked his wrist with a needle."

"I was defending the captain, Trip," he said stiffly. "I had to make do with whatever I had on hand at that moment."

"See? You're already soundin' like an Armory officer." Trip clapped him on the shoulder. "Go ahead, Mal. We'll keep watch here."

Malcolm headed back to Hoshi and Jon while Trip and T'Pol continued on their rounds. Trip found a cozy spot near the front of the hall. He leaned against the wall and T'Pol settled next to him, close enough to touch, but not touching him. They both watched the festivities in companionable silence.Malcolm sat on his mat, leaning casually on a bed of pillows, with Hoshi comfortably settled in the crook of his right arm. T'Pol noticed his hand resting on his medical pouch on his belt.

"Lucky guy."

She glanced at Trip. "I assume you mean Doctor Reed."

"Yeah, seems like he and the captain make a cozy couple."

"Is that not allowed under Starfleet regulations?"

"It would be if they were in the same department or he's a line officer. Hoshi's the commandin' officer, but Malcolm's the CMO. He's part of her staff, but he can't take command of the ship." Trip shook his head. "'Sides, I think their relationship's an open secret anyway."

T'Pol nodded in comprehension. "He has some surprising abilities for a chief medical officer."

"Like his uncanny aim with sharp objects? And how he ain't too bad with a phase pistol and would probably do pretty well if he wore one? I tell you, T'Pol, I'd welcome him into the Armory in a heartbeat." He frowned as if a sudden thought occurred to him. "'Course, if Mal transferred into the Armory, he and Hoshi might have a problem with the no-frat rule then."

His words stirred a sense of unease in her. She caught Malcolm gazing at her with those sharp blue-gray eyes, then the doctor gave her the slightest of nods. She pretended she hadn't seen it.

A gong rang over the hall and she clapped her hands over her ears. Trip winced, and they saw Hoshi jump at the abrupt sound. High Chieftain Mu'harex stood over the crowd and raised his goblet towards Hoshi. "I propose a toast to our brave and gallant warrior and her party," he boomed. "May we have a long and fruitful relationship between our peoples!" Mu'harex bowed to her and added, "_Mu'ra sak he'wu!"_

Hoshi repeated the toast and raised her goblet and together they drank to their friendship. She caught T'Pol's eye and gave the Vulcan a smile, but T'Pol noticed that it didn't reach her eyes.

"Somethin's wrong," Trip murmured.

"Yes," T'Pol agreed. Her instincts screamed a warning, but she couldn't see a visible threat. The air seemed to gather itself above them, like an approaching storm, threatening to crash over all of them.

The High Chieftain turned to Hoshi and bowed to her again. "Allow me to share a tale with you, Lady Warrior. Our people say that the first Lurans come from a Goddess and her Consort. She was stern and unmoving, He was sensitive and wise. One day, They came upon the Holy Ground that we stand on now, and the Consort wanted to make this Theirhome. She was unconvinced, until the Consort gave her a sign from the Universe."

He whipped his formal cape around and a large crystal appeared in his hand. It glowed a dark maroon with golden highlights, its facets sparkling in the lights of the hall. It blinded T'Pol for a minute; she blinked and her second eyelid swept over her irises and she could see again. Hoshi was still trying to clear her vision and Malcolm rubbed his eyes. Jon wiped tears with the sleeve of his uniform.

The High Chieftain's voice dropped to a growl. "He dropped to one knee and told Her that this Jewel had great power, the power to bring back the dead, the power to destroy Their enemies. The Universe had given their favor and a sign that They should defend Their people."

The gathered warriors cheered at the top of their voices. T'Pol crept closer to the High Chieftain; he still faced Hoshi with the jewel in his hand. The Vulcan felt waves of discord coming from within the gemstone, rippling through the air around her, shifting and rearranging time and space. She was the only one in any position to stop whatever the High Chieftain had planned.

He didn't seem to notice T'Pol's approach as he continued his story. "And the Goddess asked Her Consort why She would need such power to destroy when She could Heal. He told Her, 'Because We _can_. And that is reason enough.' She drew away from Him in revulsion and tried to throw Him from the heights of the Universe.

"She failed, Lady Warrior, and do you know why? Because the Consort was stronger." The High Chieftain's eyes were touched with madness as he raised the jewel in front of Hoshi. "The Consort accepted this power. She did not and so She failed."

T'Pol unhooked the _ahn-woon _from her belt, halting the chimes with her hand. It didn't matter if they'd heard; the audience stared, enraptured, at the drama in front of them. She was almost there...almost there...she swung the _ahn-woon _above her head, aiming for his arm, planning to jerk the jewel out his grasp...

"And the Goddess Herself was overthrown and the Consort assumed His rightful place. He used His power to destroy His enemies and rearrange space for Himself. He sought out the ones who stood in His way and banished them as He had banished the Goddess." The High Chieftain's voice dropped again in tone. "As I will now banish you."

And he raised the jewel just as T'Pol rushed forward and threw her _ahn-woon_. Hoshi finally regained her sight and realized the danger as the High Chieftain brought the jewel down, aiming for her head. T'Pol jerked her wrist and tried to wrap the whip around his arm, but it bounced off some invisible shield surrounding him. The Vulcan's eyes widened as he turned and regarded her with a sneer.

A split second before he would have hit Hoshi with the jewel, a blur came between then. T'Pol saw Malcolm Reed, with a speed and agility she had never seen from the doctor, as he threw his body onto Hoshi's and intercepted the blow. The jewel struck him in the back and light exploded as a shock wave slammed into T'Pol. Her arms windmilled as she was tossed off her feet like a rag doll. She heard Trip yell into his ear as her shoulder impacted his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as the wave bowled them over, head over heels.

_What the hell just happened? I still can't see anythin'!_

She clung to him and reached for his mind. _Whatever happens, don't forget, Trip! Don't forget! We can still change space and time! We can restore it!_

_What? I don't understand you, T'Pol!_

_DON'T FORGET!_

She held onto the connection as long as she could, feeling Trip's warm strength through it, then it snapped, taking her consciousness with it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Um...a back door into a more familiar universe, but even this one has a few surprises. :)**

**R/S and TnT**

**BTW: I meant "dimensional" not "temporal". T'Pol & the Vulcans of Captain Sato's dimension aren't quite like Daniels...**

**Thanks for catching that, Pesterfield, and keeping my story straight:)

* * *

**

**Nine**

"Bridge to Ensign Sato."

She groaned and sat up in her bunk, putting her head in her hands. It pounded like a sledgehammer and nausea rose up in her gut. Hoshi groaned again and concentrated on keeping from falling over. The doorchime hardly registered as it rang through her cabin, once, twice, three times. Then the door hissed open and footsteps crossed to her side.

"Hoshi, are you all right? Are you ill?" Gentle hands touched her shoulders. "We've been trying to call you for the past ten minutes."

She managed to shake her head. Her eyes were sore and gritty, but she managed to open them. Concerned blue-gray eyes met her own and cut through some of the nausea. She stared at him, her mouth open. "Malcolm? What are you doing here? How—?"

His brows knit together in surprise. "You didn't show up for your shift, Hoshi, and we were worried about you. I used my security override to open our door."

"Security override?" she repeated. _How did he get a security override? Isn't that Trip's job? I know he has a medical override, but—wait a damn minute._ Our door?

Her eyes darted to the red stripes on the shoulders of his jumpsuit, the two pips on his collar. "Lieutenant?"

His mouth quirked upwards. "So formal, luv?" The smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Perhaps I should bring you to Sickbay, have Phlox look you over and make sure you're all right."

"Phlox? The doctor?" She was still confused. What was going on? Phlox was her _Chief Engineer_, not the Ship's Doctor, who was supposed to be _Malcolm. _That meant that someone else was chief engineer on this ship, and if Malcolm was only a lieutenant, it wasn't him. Her memories of her own ship were crystal clear.

Who was the captain of this _Enterprise_? What was her rank and function here? She shook her head, but the cobwebs remained. She had to keep her knowledge quiet, at least until she figured out what was going on.

_He called me "luv". He's never done that before. Actions speak louder than words , he said, but----_ Her heart pounded within her chest so loud that she thought he could hear it. Her addled mind connected the blanks and a sudden lump formed in her throat. _Whatever I am here, this version of me and this Malcolm Reed are...more intimate. _The thought made her face flush in mixed embarrassment and...well, joy wasn't exactly the right word. Horror? A mix of both? Hoshi Sato, captain of the _Enterprise, _had faced hostile aliens without an eyeblink and now...she just wanted to sink into the floor.

"Reed to Sickbay."

"Phlox here."

"I'm bringing Ensign Sato. She isn't well and she seems confused."

"All right, Lieutenant. I'll be expecting both of you. Phlox, out."

She heard Malcolm come to her side again. "Hoshi, let me help you."

Hoshi sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead; she couldn't meet his eyes again."At least, let me get dressed first, okay?"

* * *

T'Pol found herself staring deep into her bowl of _plomeek_ soup, as if trying to read her fortune within it. She blinked slowly. _What has happened? Where am I? There is a disturbance in the space-time continuum. It does not feel right._

"T'Pol? You seem distracted today. Are you all right?"

She looked up to meet Jon Archer's eyes. He gazed at her with a look of curiosity and concern. She blinked again and noticed the gold command stripes, the four pips on Archer's uniform. _Captain Jonathan Archer. Time has changed. _A second thought came on the heels of that: _Where are Hoshi, Trip, and Malcolm?_

"Subcommander?"

_Subcommander? Vulcan has not used that rank structure in centuries. I am a _Subcommander _here? _A horrible sinking feeling came over her. She had failed in her mission; the memory of the Luran's hall and of the High Chieftain were crystal clear. Trip Tucker and Hoshi Sato had survived...but Malcolm Reed...he had thrown his own body over the captain's, sacrificed his own life for hers...

"Forgive me, Captain," she said carefully. "I was distracted by other matters."

Archer's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Perhaps you should rest, T'Pol...you've put in more than a double shift today. I know this particular nebula is unusual, but—"

_Nebula? Like the one Commander Mayweather was studying on the way to Luran._ Where was Travis on this ship? Was he even on this version on _Enterprise_? She took a deep breath. "Perhaps I should rest and meditate, Captain, so my mind will be clear."

"Of course, T'Pol. I'll have Lieutenant Simmonds take your shift." The whistle of the ship's intercom interrupted Archer and he tabbed the button. "Archer."

"It's Doctor Phlox, Captain. Can you come down to Sickbay? It concerns Ensign Sato."

"Hoshi? I thought I ordered her to bed after she spent hours on that translation."

"It is difficult to explain."

Archer's head went up in surprise. He met her raised eyebrow, but he had misinterpreted her expression. "I'm on my way, Doctor. T'Pol—"

"I will accompany you to Sickbay, Captain." Her mind worked quickly to process the information she had heard so far. She was a Subcommander, Phlox was the doctor, Archer was the captain, Hoshi was an ensign. Four people were accounted for. Travis, Trip, and Malcolm were still missing. Automatically, she reached out and to her utter shock...

_Hey, darlin'. You all right? You sound tired._

_Trip? _She fumbled and nearly lost the connection. _I—_

_T'Pol, I'm in the middle of somethin' delicate right now. Usually, I don't mind a mental hello, but these damn warp core specs are kinda tricky._

_My apologies. Ensign Sato is in Sickbay and I was checking on your condition._

_I'm fine. _There was the slightest hesitation. _Hoshi's in Sickbay? What happened?_

_Jon—the captain—and I are en-route there right now. I will inform you when I have more information._

He didn't seem fazed by her mental slip of calling Archer by his first name. _Okay, darlin'. Soon as I'm done here, I'll drop by and pay Hoshi a visit. Malcolm with her?_

_I do not know._

_If she's in Sickbay, he'll come runnin' from the Armory like a bat outta hell. I'll meet you there._

_Very well._

_See you later, _thy'la.

And she felt his withdrawal from their connection, the slightest touch like the equivalent of "a peck on the cheek". She blinked and realized that she was now on the turbolift with Captain Archer. Archer—she referred to him by his last name, since this was not the same man on _her_ ship—had a worried expression on his face. Hoshi Sato probably meant a lot to this Archer...no, not in a romantic way, for Trip had implied that Malcolm was—She resisted a smile; she doubted it was appropriate here, like in her own universe. So Malcolm was an Armory Officer here and Trip the Chief Engineer. That left Travis as the helmsman, if he was here. It was all confusing; she had to watch her words carefully and not let anything slip.

The Sickbay was approximately in the same area as her own _Enterprise_. Phlox turned to greet them; the Denobulan was in civilian garb, not in Starfleet uniform. Hoshi Sato sat up on the biobed, her eyes wide with a touch of fear. Malcolm Reed stood at her side, his hand on her shoulder. This universe's Reed wore the rank pips of a Lieutenant and the red stripes of command. He gave T'Pol a polite nod, then returned his attention to Hoshi.

"Hoshi, you okay?" Archer asked.

She blinked as looked up at him, and T'Pol saw the surprise cross her face at Archer's rank. "I–I don't know, sir," she stammered. Her voice was uncertain, as if she didn't know the men hovering at the side of the biobed. The Vulcan realized that she truly _didn't_. "I—"

"Captain, I took a scan of the ensign after Lieutenant Reed brought her here. She has an imbalance in her brain chemistry that wasn't there twenty-four hours ago."

"An imbalance? What caused it?"

"Unknown, Captain. I'll have to run some more tests to find a cure. I don't think it'll have any long-term effects on her health, but it does explains her confusion and her headache. I want the ensign here for tonight, at least until I can correct the imbalance."

Hoshi blinked and said, "But I'm fine, Phlox—"

Archer gave Reed a humorous glance. "Isn't that supposed to be your line, Malcolm? I think she's picked up some of your bad habits." Reed only shrugged and took the teasing in good grace.

"Lieutenant, I suggest you get some rest yourself. Your fiancee will be quite fine here. We'll have her up and about in no time."

Hoshi stared at T'Pol and mouthed, _Fiancee_? T'Pol only raised an eyebrow in silent warning. _Say nothing, do not react. _Hoshi nodded slightly in acknowledgment, the panicked look easing as she realized that T'Pol was in the same situation.

"I'll be here in the morning, luv. Get some rest, all right." At her hesitant nod, Reed brushed his lips against her temple, then smiled at her. "Captain. Subcommander. Doctor."

"Good night, Lieutenant," T'Pol said politely, as the Armory officer left Sickbay.

"You ought to get some rest as well, Subcommander," Phlox suggested.

"If it's all right, Doctor, I'd like to talk to T'Pol for a little while," Hoshi said. "I need to ask her—"

Archer chuckled and said, "Well, considering she's your maid of honor, I suppose talking about the wedding will ease your mind. Just don't stay too late; both of you need your rest."

"Understood, Captain," T'Pol replied evenly. "I will make sure the ensign rests."

"And I'll be in my office if you need me," Phlox added. T'Pol only nodded as Archer left Sickbay and Phlox retreated into the next room and shut the door. Hoshi breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally alone. She raised her eyebrows at T'Pol's tight-fitting suit that was nothing like a Starfleet uniform.

"Yes, the Vulcans here have a strange idea what constitutes a uniform," T'Pol said, her voice ironic.

"What happened to your hair, Ensign?" Hoshi whispered harshly.

T'Pol reached over and touched the short brown strands. "Obviously, my counterpart prefers her hair shorter."

"You look...different." She shook her head and returned to the subject at hand. "Where are we?"

"It appears we are on an alternate _Enterprise_, Captain. I am a Subcommander, you are an ensign, and the rest of the crew seem to be in different roles."

Hoshi nodded. "I noticed as much. Is Trip here? Travis?"

She nodded. "Trip is here...as Chief Engineer. It also appears that our...relationship...has also advanced to a higher level as well. We...hear each other's thoughts."

Her captain-now-ensign blinked and then her eyes widened in surprise. "I thought—"

T'Pol sighed. "He called me...his mate."

Hoshi leaned forward and massaged her temples. "You're Trip's wife, I'm Malcolm's fiancee, Jon's the captain, and we're both going crazy. Wait a minute...if this _Enterprise_'s Trip can hear what you're thinking—"

"I can shield certain things from him," she replied, "but in order for him to be able to do it at _all_, and at the skill he has shown...he is probably adept at doing the same."

"Great. We've got a problem."

T'Pol picked up one of Phlox's scanners and passed it over Hoshi, then herself, and compared the results. "The 'imbalance' is due to a displacement shift, Captain. We must return to our proper time and place or it will cause ripples in the fabric of the continuum."

"Did you attend Time Travel 101 at the Vulcan Science Academy?" Hoshi teased as she straightened up and looked at the Vulcan.

She raised an eyebrow. "In actuality, it was advanced quantum and Volian mechanics, coupled with morality and ethics of various dimensional intrusions of any sort."

Hoshi stared at her, then shook her head. "All right, forget I asked. What should we do?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**How are Hoshi and T'Pol going to deal with their strange situation? And how are they gonna get back??**

**Begoogled: Yeah, this universe is similar to the "real" Enterprise, but not exactly.**

**Rating: T**

**R/S and TnT

* * *

**

**Ten**

Hoshi managed five hours of sleep, but the squawk of Doctor Phlox's menagerie kept intruding into her dreams. The Denobulan had more animals in Sickbay, more than just the one Pyrithian bat that his counterpart had in Engineering. Finally, she just sat up in bed and accessed the crew records. T'Pol had told her that each dimension held some common threads, but varied widely from one to the next. For example, the _Enterprise _bridge crew was intact here, but switched around. Some details didn't surprise her, others simply made her jaw drop.

Her own service record, in this universe, horrified her. _Ensign _Sato had been suspended from Starfleet for running a floating poker game at the Academy and had used her aikido to break an instructor's arm. At the time of this _Enterprise_'s launch, she'd been on leave from Starfleet, teaching at a university in Brazil, until _Captain _Jon Archer had convinced her to join his crew.

A parallel to her history with Lieutenant Archer. She tried to imagine herself as a university professor, sharing her linguistic knowledge with young students. _That_ sounded like a life she would enjoy, if she didn't have Starfleet.

She sighed and shook her head. So many things were similar, yet different. The Vulcans here were not as...open-minded as they were in her universe. According to the Vulcans she knew, there was an infinite number of universes, branching out as its people made different decisions in their lifetimes, or as history unfolded differently. _These _Vulcans dismissed any theories on time or dimensional travel.

"The Vulcan Science Directorate states that time travel is impossible," Hoshi read the words aloud. _They sound like they have a superiority complex. No wonder they don't get along with Humans as well here. _

Her sharp ears detected Phlox moving around in his office, so she switched to the remote access of the communications console on the Bridge. She stared at the characters on her screen. _Oh my God. The Luran speeches, all three of them, and the First Protocols. The exact same information...no, wait, there are some differences..._she scanned the information, then flagged it to T'Pol's attention on the her science console on the Bridge..._now, that's strange. T'Pol in sciences. I keep wanting to address it to _Travis.

"Ah, Ensign, I thought I told you to take it easy."

She smiled at Phlox. The Denobulan's grin seemed a little too cheerful for her taste. "I slept a little, Doctor, but I got restless. I thought I'd look over the First Protocols for the Lurans."

"Ah, yes, the Lurans. The Denobulans have been their allies for about a hundred and fifty years. Quite the philosophers and logicians, their passionate love of debate belie their peaceful facade." Phlox chuckled and shook his head. "I suppose the subcommander will enjoy conversing with them."

Hoshi laughed politely and kept the shock from her face. _Philosophers? Logicians? Peaceful?_ "Have you met a Luran face-to-face?"

"A few of their doctors were also in the Interspecies Medical Exchange; one of them was working in San Francisco at the same time I was there. In fact, if I hadn't accepted the position on _Enterprise_, I would have recommended Va'Ruth to Captain Archer." He chuckled at the memory. "A warrior for her patients...she tolerated very little interference by politics. Gentle, but if the ones under her care were threatened, she was as stubborn as a Klingon!"

_A Klingon? What's that? Obviously a race that _my Enterprise _hasn't encountered yet. _She nodded as if she knew what Phlox was talking about. "I can imagine her and Captain Archer at loggerheads."

"Yes. And speaking of heads, how is yours feeling?" Phlox ran his scanner over Hoshi and looked at the results. "Ah, it looks like the imbalance seems to be evening out; it's still there, but not enough to impair your normal routine."

Hoshi sighed at the news. "Can I go to the Bridge?"

"I don't see why not, as long as you're up to it. I want you to come back here if you're feeling faint or disoriented again. Lieutenant Reed was quite concerned about you last night."

She closed her eyes. He said he would come here in the morning, but she wasn't sure if she was up to facing him. "Malcolm,"she whispered.

"I could call him and ask him to escort you back to your quarters—"

"Doctor, I want to make sure I can get around by myself without falling on my face. Please."

He nodded at her entreaty and replied, "Very well, but call me the moment you need me."

"I will." She scooted off the biobed as fast as she could and with a last smile at Phlox, left Sickbay. Hoshi hoped she wouldn't meet anyone she knew on the way...especially Malcolm.

When she reached her quarters—Malcolm's, actually, since she couldn't just duck into Archer's cabin—she took a quick shower, then pulled on a fresh uniform. Hoshi noticed every little detail: real water showers instead of sonic showers, her uniforms hung neatly on one side of the closet (with Malcolm's impeccable uniforms on the other side), her language PADDs stacked neatly on the corner of the desk, pictures on the walls (mostly of her and her family; the holophotos that _Doctor_ Malcolm Reed had of his parents and sister were conspicuously missing...did _Lieutenant_ Reed even have a family? She wondered.)

She started to braid her hair and loop it into a bun, but then she stopped. The picture in her service record showed her hair in a simple ponytail...she glanced at a photo on her desk of her and Malcolm in uniform, and her hair in the same style. Hoshi sighed and undid her braid and swept it up in a ponytail. She checked her uniform: blue stripes, not gold; one pip and not four.

_Talk about a demotion. Ah, well._

The computer said that T'Pol was currently on the Bridge. She hoped that the Vulcan had gotten her message and the information on this universe's version of the Lurans. A complete opposite from the warrior-like race that she had encountered, but if history was going to repeat itself...

Without warning, the door swooshed open behind her and before she could react, a pair of strong arms wrapped around waist and held her close. She fought against her natural reflexes---her Trip Tucker had put her entire command crew through enough defensive training sessions that her skills were almost automatic.

The arms loosened slightly and his voice reflected his concern. "Are you all right, Hoshi?"

She tried to keep her light tone as she replied, "Malcolm, I thought you were in the Armory."

"I was, and I was going to visit you, but Phlox told me you'd already left Sickbay. I thought I'd take you to breakfast." His accented voice tickled her ear and she shivered despite herself.

"I'm fine. Phlox said I can work, as long as I take it easy. Besides, I wanted to–talk with—the Captain and T'Pol—about the–the Luran First Contact Protocols." Hoshi closed her eyes; it was getting harder to think with his lips teasing her ear. _Okay, think, Hoshi! This is _not_ the Malcolm Reed you know. How are you going to get out of this? _

"You've been working too hard. The captain ordered me to help you relax."

His words filled her with panic. "Uh, he did?" She swallowed a lump in her throat. "But—"

He turned her around so she faced him. She couldn't tear her eyes from his gaze; this man had the same gentle, but intense emotion she knew. Instinctively, she knew he would never harm her, and never let any harm come to her. "Malcolm, I—" Her words died in her throat as he covered her mouth with his. _Oh my God..._she felt her own resolve fall apart, her resistance fading. Her mind screamed in protest, but another part of her just told her brain to shut up. _But I can't do this, I can't..._

And then her stomach rumbled. Loudly. So loud that she couldn't help but start giggling. Then Malcolm's stomach gurgled in response. Hoshi snorted in laughter, then burst out in loud guffaws. His nonplused expression became a smirk, and he laughed along with her.

"Um...about breakfast? I haven't eaten anything yet."

"Hungry?" he asked with a sly wink.

She gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile. "It's hard to be romantic when your stomach is wrapped around your backbone."

He nodded in understanding and released her. "Then let's correct that problem, shall we?"

The Mess Hall was half full, and they found a table near the doors. Hoshi concentrated on the food as Malcolm read something on his PADD. The silence was warm, comforting, as if they had done this every day. Perhaps they did, like how she and Doctor Reed shared breakfast in the Captain's Mess. She glanced around the room, noting which crewmembers she recognized and those she didn't.

"Hey, good to see you up and about, Hoshi! You gave us all a scare. How're you feelin'?"

She closed her eyes. _Trip Tucker. __I'd know that drawl anywhere. _When she opened them again, Trip had sat in the chair on her other side. Tucker's plate was full of scrambled eggs, bacon, country ham and gravy and he didn't waste any time digging into it.

"Better, thanks, Trip." She smiled at him; he was the mirror image of her Armory Officer and had the same charming air around him.

"I tried stoppin' by last night, but you were asleep, and Phlox said you needed your rest." He looked up at her and added, "T'Pol seemed pretty concerned for you."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said in a neutral tone.

The two men chatted about engineering issues, while Hoshi finished her fruit and tea. She noticed that Malcolm hadn't said a word about her choice of meal, and she missed it. He seemed to notice her mood and slid his hand atop hers. She managed a smile, but her heart was heavy.

A whistle pierced her thoughts. "Ensign Sato, Lieutenant Reed, Doctor Phlox, please report to the Captain Ready Room," came T'Pol's voice. The Vulcan's voice held an unmistakable note of tension; Trip frowned and seemed to lose his focus for a minute.

_T'Pol said he could read her thoughts. How much can he read? _If Trip figured out that his wife was not the same woman he'd married...Hoshi held her breath as an unspoken conversation flashed between the two.She watched Trip as he nodded in agreement.

"Commander?" Malcolm asked.

"I'd better go too," Trip said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. Malcolm didn't ask any more questions, but only offered his hand to help Hoshi up from her seat. She took it and the three headed out of the Mess Hall.

_What's going on? _Hoshi repressed a shiver of dread at the thought.


	11. Chapter 11

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Rating: T**

**R/S and TnT**

**Eleven**

T'Pol stepped onto the Bridge with a calm air that she didn't feel. Captain Archer swiveled around in his chair to smile at her; she responded with a cool nod, then made her way to the science station. She had to remind herself not to take the steps down to the helm station; Travis Mayweather occupied that station. The young ensign chatted amicably with the navigator next to him. T'Pol identified him as Bryan Trace, who was the relief Armory officer in her own universe. Like Mayweather, Trace was an ensign here.

She noticed a message from Hoshi: _Coincidence? Deja vu? I don't think so. HS._ Her eyebrow climbed higher as she read the information bookmarked for her. The Luran First Protocols were so similar to the ones in her universe, with some differences. A humorous vision of Jon Archer with an ­_ahn-woon_ came to her mind. She couldn't imagine Archer being as successful in making the complicated speeches like Captain Sato. He was more likely to hurt himself with the _ahn-woon _instead.

Then she brought up the information on the nebula. Again, the radiation readings had increased by ten percent, becoming dangerous to passing ships. T'Pol decided to test a theory. "Captain?"

"What is it?" Archer asked as he looked at her from his command chair.

"I have analyzed the readings from the nebula. It appears that radiation levels have risen significantly since the last survey."

Archer frowned and asked, "Will it be a danger to the ship?"

"As long as we stay a safe distance away, _Enterprise_ should not be affected."

And if on cue, Travis Mayweather turned to look at her and remarked, "That nebula's directly on a major shipping lane, Captain. Boomer ships don't have polarized hull plating like we do. Those radiation levels might be a major hazard to their crews."

T'Pol inclined her head, as if in deep thought. The young man was genuinely concerned for his fellow Boomers. She could see the foundations of the future first officer. _He will be an excellent captain, in any universe. _Then she remarked off-handedly, "We could drop off a series of warning buoys for any other ships in this area."

Mayweather nodded with a relieved grin. "That would be a great help, Subcommander."

Archer smiled and said, "Coordinate the buoy launch with Trip and Malcolm, T'Pol. We'll be passing out of this sector in twelve hours; I'd like to have them deployed by then."

She nodded. "I will do so, Captain." T'Pol caught Mayweather's grateful smile and answered with a slight nod. The helmsman turned back to his board with new enthusiasm.

_Coincidence? Deja vu? _Vulcans didn't believe in such things, but then again, most Vulcans had never put the multiple-universe theory to the test by actually crossing the borders. There was a reason why she and Captain Sato had appeared on this _Enterprise_. They had been given another chance to correct what went wrong, another opportunity to save their own universe—

Suddenly, a piercing alarm erupted from the Tactical station. Ensign Cherhezy glanced up and reported, "I'm reading a ship coming out of warp within two hundred thousand kilometers from the nebula, sir. Correction—two ships, from two different vectors. They appear to be some kind of transports."

"That's skirting pretty close to the safe boundary, Captain," Travis remarked.

"Hail them, Crewman Djerbo," Archer said to the man at the communications station. "Warn them about the radiation levels."

Djerbo nodded and proceeded to send the message. An answering beep came from Djerbo's console and he replied, "We're getting a response, sir."

"Put it on, Crewman."

T'Pol's eyes widened at the familiar tone. "_Enterprise, _do not interfere. This is a private business transaction. We will be finished in a few moments."

Archer frowned at the smug self-assurance. "Your ships are close to a nebula that's sending off dangerous amount of radiation. Even your shielding can't withstand a lethal dose. Perhaps you could—"

"No need, Captain Archer. I repeat, do not interfere or you will be fired upon." There was a snap as the channel went dead.

Archer glanced at T'Pol. "How long before those ship crews are exposed too long?"

She shook her head. "At their distance, and with their inadequate shielding, perhaps ten, fifteen minutes."

"Engineering!"

Another familiar voice came over the intercom. "Hess here, sir."

"Lieutenant, can you get a transporter lock on the coordinates that T'Pol has on her board?"

There was a pause, then Hess replied, "I'm getting a lot of interference from the radiation and the stellar debris within the nebula. We'll have to close the distance considerably to get a halfway decent lock."

"How close?"

"Within several thousand meters, sir."

T'Pol shook her head. "That will expose the crew to a high dose of radiation, Captain. We would not be able to maintain that distance for more than five minutes before the effects will be felt."

"Damn."

An alert beeped on Cherhezy's board. "Captain, there's been a transport between the two ships."

"Confirmed," T'Pol said, "but the high amounts of distortion from the nebula is interfering with their transporters and sensors."

"Another transport," added Cherhezy. "A strange dispersal pattern, though—"

"Dispersal?" Archer repeated. "That means—"

"—whoever it was didn't make it, sir."

A heavy silence came over the Bridge. T'Pol ignored the sickening sensation in her stomach as she tried to analyze the transporter dispersal pattern. It was a delicate puzzle and her sensor data was spotty, but it distracted her from the emotional ramifications. She was not unaffected, but she hid her reactions to the point where the Humans around her thought her emotionless.

She looked up from her board. "Captain...I am reading organic material in their immediate space."

"Can you identify it?" Archer's voice was hushed.

"Unable to do so, sir, but it is definitely of a carbon-base life form. It is logical to assume it was a humanoid."

"My God. Someone just got spaced," Mayweather whispered. He glanced over his shoulder with a grim expression. "I recognized that voice, Captain. He's a bounty hunter named El-Sadr. Pretty nasty guy, if I remember right. Preys on the cargo ships between Itharia and Ryder's Colony."

"El-Sadr? Saeed El-Sadr?" T'Pol queried before she could stop herself. She wanted to bite her tongue, but it was too late.

Mayweather frowned at her and asked, "You know him?."

"The Vulcan Security Ministry knows of him," T'Pol replied in a flat tone, remembering the outbursts of rage from the Armory man in her universe. _If El-Sadr is a violent man in this universe, then in could explain the 'leakage' between him and his counterpart.. It follows that this Vulcan Security Ministry might very well know_ _about him, if their records approach anywhere near the scope of the one of which I am familiar. _

Archer stared at her. "An old friend of yours, then?"

"I would not call him an 'old friend', Captain. More of a passing acquaintance." That was technically the truth, though nothing as close as Archer and Mayweather assumed.

Crewman Djerbo's eyes widened as he said, "Transmission from El-Sadr's ship, sir."

The man's voice held equal parts of sarcasm and humor. "I don't think you have to worry about the safety of my crew and passengers, Captain Archer. Our business here is concluded."

"You just beamed a person out into space—"

"A slight malfunction, unfortunately, when my passenger decided to sabotage the control board and scramble the coordinates. There was nothing I could do." The shades of anger within El-Sadr's voice deepened. "I don't suggest following me, unless you would rather sacrifice your own crew, and if you tell Starfleet, they won't find me. And if they do, I'll make sure to be just as...accommodating. Have a pleasant day, Captain."

Cherhzy's board beeped another alarm. "Two warp signatures—they're gone, sir."

Archer muttered under his breath. "Damn. We're under orders to Luran and we can't break them." He looked about to order a pursue course anyway. "Cherhzy, T'Pol, see if you can extrapolate their possible paths from their warp-out point. I'll be in my ready room."

T'Pol wondered if Archer _would _break orders and go in pursuit of El-Sadr. Not only would it disrupt the first contact mission, but it would ruin any chance of she and Hoshi returning to their own universe. Archer, no doubt, would consult with Starfleet, but if they _did_ change their orders...

Fifteen minutes later, Archer returned to the Bridge. His eyes glittered with barely-contained anger, but his voice was cool and professional as he turned towards the science station. "T'Pol, send a warning to the Vulcan Security Ministry and Starfleet. Tell them of our sighting of El-Sadr and append a copy of the comm transmissions, your sensor data and Cherhzy's tactical data. He won't get away with murder."

"Yes, Captain." She kept her eyes on her board. If this universe's El-Sadr was ruthless enough to beam someone into deep space as part of a "business transaction"...she appreciated Captain Sato's orders to have the Armory man under guard in their universe. _Saeed El-Sadr is an honorable man; what kind of circumstance can twist him into a sadistic murderer like this? _

"And T'Pol—"

"Captain?" Her tone betrayed none of the dread she felt.

"Call Malcolm, Hoshi and Phlox to my Ready Room. We're going to meet the Lurans in less than twenty-four hours and I need to go over some protocols. I want you to join us, too."

"Certainly." She checked their whereabouts on the computer; Hoshi and Malcolm were in the Mess Hall, while Phlox was in Sickbay. Then she relayed the captain's orders to the trio—

_T'Pol, what's going on? You're tense and upset._

She winced at Trip's mind-voice. How did her counterpart tolerate this nearly-complete sharing of minds? Only closely bonded Vulcans could share thoughts to this degree, which brought up some interesting theories on this relationship. _Forgive me, _thy'la_, but we just met an...old acquaintance of mine. The meeting was brief, but hearing his voice startled me._

_Someone you'd rather forget?_

_At the moment, I would rather not discuss it._

_All right...I'll let it go for now. You gonna be all right?_

_I will be fine, Trip. The captain wishes to speak to us about our mission to the Luran Homeworld._

_Hoshi and Malcolm are on their way. I'm coming up to the Bridge. I'll see you in a few minutes._

He withdrew from the mental link before she could comment. The captain hadn't called Trip to the Ready Room; why would he come up now? Perhaps to watch over the Bridge in the absence of the senior officers. Then why had he sounded so concerned about her? She closed her eyes and tried to regain her mental balance. She wasn't used to this and the more she shared her thoughts and feelings with this man, the more seductive the mental bond became. This was not the Trip Tucker of her dimension, but he acted very much like him.

_If...when..Hoshi and I return to our dimension, could I expect such a bond with my version of Trip Tucker? _It was an intriguing prospect, but one that was not a priority right now. She reluctantly pushed it to a corner of her mind and followed the captain into the ready room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Rating: T**

**R/S and TnT**

**Twelve**

The clanging of bells was Hoshi's only warning. She threw herself to the side, rolling back up on her knees. She clawed her long black hair out of her face—_how the hell can I do anything with my hair in my face? I'm a Starfleet officer, not a fashion model!—_and spit strands out of her mouth.

"Sorry, Hoshi," Archer apologized sheepishly. "I haven't gotten the hang of it yet."

"That's all right, sir," she replied as she got back onto her feet. She checked the _katana_ strapped to her back and its smaller twin, the _wakazashi_, sheathed at her side. Her unexpected tumble had no lasting damage on either. She gave Archer a look of sympathy.

"I can't seem to get the hang of this," he said, frustration lacing his voice.

"The _ahn-woon_ takes a lot of practice and T'Pol is a good teacher." It took all of her control to keep from laughing at the Vulcan's exasperated (as much as T'Pol allowed herself to look exasperated) expression.

T'Pol retrieved her weapon from Archer and passed it to Hoshi. "Ensign, will you please demonstrate some techniques to the captain?"

"Hoshi, I didn't know you had any experience with Vulcan weapons," Archer said with surprise.

She chuckled and replied, "I'm not an expert, but I did spend some time on Vulcan when I was learning the language. I'll try my best." Not the best story, but it was sufficient for the moment. Hoshi swung it around her head, then snapped it outwards, making the chimes ring. After a few more experimental strikes, she handed it back to T'Pol. "Thank you."

"Your skills are quite good," T'Pol said with a nod. Humor sparkled in her eyes at the ironic comment. Hoshi felt her own lips curve upwards in a smile. "Now, Captain, did you see how she angled her wrist—"

Hoshi moved to the other side of the shuttle bay, where Malcolm, Trip and Travis were preparing Shuttlepod One for the trip to Luran. Malcolm smiled at her approach and she moved to his side. "Here, Malcolm. I hope you take good care of these; I want them back in one piece."

"I shall, my lady," he replied solemnly, as he accepted the _katana_ and the _wakazashi_ sword with a slight bow. He smiled in appreciation of the craftsmanship, of the clean lines and glow of the wooden lacquered scabbards. "They're beautiful, Hoshi."

"Wow," Travis agreed, his eyes widening. "I didn't know you had those on board."

She nodded at him and said, "They're heirlooms, Travis, part of my family for centuries." Her counterpart kept them in the same place she did on her own ship, and Hoshi was glad of it. She gave Malcolm a sideways look. "You aren't supposed to withdraw the swords all the way out of the scabbard unless you plan to use them."

"In other words, don't flash the steel around unless you mean it," Trip said, his voice muffled by the interior of the shuttlepod. He stuck his head out of the pod. "That makes it, what, five blades you've got? How many more do you need?"

"Two more, but that shouldn't be difficult to procure."

"Thought so. Here." Trip pulled out a pair of sheathed knives and handed them to Malcolm. "Now _these_ are Tucker heirlooms, so I want 'em back too."

Malcolm sputtered, "Where the bloody hell—?"

"Whoa," Travis echoed, his eyes like saucers.

"They're Bowie knives. Got 'em from my great-granddaddy," Trip answered breezily. "I've never used 'em, but they're still in pretty good condition. Yeah, I know you're the Armory officer, but like Hoshi, I got special clearance before we launched _Enterprise_."

"You've never struck me as a weapons collector, Trip," Malcolm said.

"I'm not, not really, but they've got a history, and Great-Grandad wanted me to take a piece of the family when I got into space."

"Then I shall take excellent care of them." Malcolm's tone was warm as he made the promise. Hoshi allowed a slight smile; _Lieutenant Commander _Trip Tucker had a similar pair of knives prominently displayed in his quarters on _her_ ship.

There was another loud jangle as Archer mistimed his aim and the heavy end of his _ahn-woon_ dropped to the floor like a rock. T'Pol didn't quite roll her eyes, but Trip winced in sympathy even as he choked back his laughter.

Hoshi decided to make a graceful exit. "I think I'd better help the captain with his _ahn-woon_ before he kills someone by accident."

* * *

"How are we going to get out of the mess we're in?" Hoshi asked T'Pol. The two were in one of the Science Labs, in the pretense of doing last-minute adjustments to their protocols. It was one of the few places on the ship where T'Pol was sure they wouldn't be overheard. Neither of their quarters was safe and there were simply too many people in the places Hoshi had suggested. 

T'Pol looked up from her PADD. "We must be vigilant while we are on the planet, Hoshi. There are many similarities to this particular Away mission and our own. It will be imperative that the original members survive the mission."

A wince of pain went through Hoshi at the memory. She forced herself to ask the question that she dreaded knowing the answer to. "Malcolm...I mean, Doctor Reed, will he be alive if—when—we go back?"

The Vulcan looked up at her with an unreadable expression, but sadness shone in her eyes. "I do not know, Hoshi. There is no predicting what will happen when our dimension is restored to normal."

She took a deep breath to keep her voice steady. "So we might go back to a completely changed world. He might still---"

"The possibility exists," T'Pol admitted. "I cannot say just how deep the changes will run."

Hoshi blinked back tears; she couldn't imagine her universe without him. It took a mix-up of dimensional proportions to make her realize that. Then she reminded herself: _There is more at stake here than just your love life, Hoshi. How many more people are "gone" because the Lurans were successful? A whole universe, a whole dimension. _Whatever happened, happened, and she should be prepared. She summoned up her "captain facade", even as her heart was breaking.

"All right. So we have to make sure Jon, Malcolm and Trip get out of this alive. With Malcolm being the Armory Officer, that'll make it more complicated."

"Yes, but I have observed that he is much less likely to stumble into a firefight."

"Like another Armory Officer we both know?" She smiled at the joke; their Trip never went looking for trouble, but it always seemed to find him. The smile vanished. "All right, how are we going to know when's the right moment?"

"We will know. That is all I can tell you." T'Pol gave a small sigh, then stiffened. "Trip and Malcolm are looking for us. We have four hours until we cross into the system."

Hoshi sighed and rubbed her temples. "Can't we just make an excuse? Or have Phlox tell them we're sick? Or run and hide?"

"Unfortunately, that is not possible." T'Pol tapped her own temple. "And I would not underestimate this Malcolm's skills in tracking."

And Trip stuck his head into the doorway. "So, here's where you two are hidin'."

"We were not 'hiding'," T'Pol objected coolly. "We were finalizing the adjustments to the protocols before we entered the system. There are many details that must be attended to, or we risk offending the Lurans. The consequences may not be pleasant."

Trip chuckled and took the PADD out of T'Pol's hand. "Look, being paranoid is Malcolm's job. I'm sure things'll turn out just fine. Now, you've been working non-stop since we found out we were going to Luran in the first place. A workaholic Vulcan is a grumpy Vulcan. I bet you missed your last meditation session."

"Trip, my last meditation session was exactly seven point two hours ago."

He snorted and glanced at Malcolm, who leaned against the doorway."Yeah, for about half an hour. No wonder you're bein' grumpy. C'mon, you need time to center yourself. I pulled out the mat and the candles for you, and I had Chef make some _pok tar_ and _plomeek _soup, 'cause I'm pretty sure you skipped eatin' this afternoon too."

"You did not have to—" The rest of T'Pol's protest was cut off as he led her past Malcolm and out of the lab. The door hissed shut after them.

Hoshi stared at the door. "He really cares for her, doesn't he?"

"He does," Malcolm agreed quietly. "They are polar opposites, but they complement each other so well. Took them a long time to realize it, but I'm rather glad they did." A lopsided grin appeared on his lips. "As I am glad that I realized the truth as well."

She smiled at him, but said nothing.

He took a step towards her. "What is it, Hoshi? You've been withdrawn ever since Phlox found that imbalance in your brain. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm all right, it's just—" She sighed and decided to be truthful, for once. "I don't want to lose you."

"Is that what's bothering you?" He drew her into a gentle hug and didn't let her go. "I'll be with you as long as I'm able, luv. I promise."

"I know. I know you will." She closed her eyes and gave in to the inevitable, just this once.


	13. Chapter 13

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**Rating: T**

**R/S and TnT**

**Thirteen**

Four hours later, Shuttlepod One headed down to the surface of Luran. Hoshi sat directly behind Trip, who was piloting the shuttle. She'd wondered how they could convince Archer to bring Trip along, for there was no real need for the Chief Engineer on this particular mission. T'Pol explained it to her in a low voice.

"Ever since we were...married, Trip and I have made it point to be on the same Away teams as much as possible. We are a bonded pair, Hoshi, and it is easier this way."

"Easier, how?" Hoshi whispered.

"If one member of a mated pair is injured, the other is nearby to assist. If one member dies—"

Hoshi's eyes widened as she heard the unspoken words. This complicated matters so much...if Trip died, T'Pol might just die with him. Their bond was strong, so strong that she could see that happening. She swallowed hard and thought, _What if she and our Trip Tucker became this closely bonded and something happened to him? He's the Armory Officer; there's a chance that he might die in the line of duty...what happens to T'Pol then? Will she die along with him?_

T'Pol's voice was soft. "There is always a risk, Hoshi, in everything. Some risks are acceptable, others we simply cannot change. We must treasure the moments as they come."

She felt a blush creep across her cheeks. As a Starfleet captain, her first impulse was to make decisions based on what was "correct", both morally and within regulations. Sometimes, that meant denying herself and her own feelings. It wasn't easy, but she kept the heartache bottled up inside, and cried in private. She had been able to withstand temptation once, but...

It had been an enjoyable...pre-mission briefing. Malcolm, sitting at the sensory station, caught her blush, and the corner of his mouth went up in a slight smirk. _Cheeky bastard,_ she thought, with a tinge of wistfulness. _So different, and yet so much the same---_

She heard a noise from Phlox behind her and she turned to see him. He was staring at his PADD with an expression of sadness. "What's wrong, Doctor?"

"We have the time, so I thought I'd look at this latest message from Doctor Lucas. It concerns one of our mutual patients. Unfortunately, it isn't good news." He handed her the PADD. "This patient was an Armory officer aboard the _Columbia_ who had met misfortune on an Away mission. She was severely injured, Hoshi, and suffered brain trauma."

Hoshi stared at the name in Lucas's message. _Lieutenant Ellen Varianis. Former Armory Officer of the _Columbia, _under Captain Erika Hernandez. Severe brain trauma, permanent. Catatonic for two weeks after the incident. Limited impulse control, memory impairment, multiple personality disorder..._

"My God," she whispered. She glanced again at Malcolm, who was now staring down at his board. Of course, he'd known her; she'd been one of his contemporaries. Her heart ached for him, and for this Ellen Varianis. Wordlessly, she handed the PADD back to Phlox, who sighed and deactivated it.

"I"m sorry, Lieutenant Reed," Phlox whispered, "but Ellen Varianis finally died three days ago."

Malcolm shook his head as Hoshi put a comforting hand on his arm. "Ellen was one of the best, Phlox, and it was tragic what happened to her. I'll write a condolence note when we get back to _Enterprise._" He managed a smile at her; she tightened her grip on his arm.

"I'm sure her parents will appreciate that, Malcolm," Captain Archer spoke up from the back of the shuttlepod. The captain gave him a sad smile. "Captain Hernandez had nothing but praise for her."

Hoshi's board beeped and she brought her attention to the incoming transmission. "A welcome message from the Lurans, Captain Archer."

"Put it through, Ensign." He raised his voice. "This is Captain Archer of the _Enterprise_."

"Welcome, Archer, to Luran. We are sending landing coordinates to your pilot."

Trip nodded in confirmation. "Got 'em, Cap'n."

"We've received them," Archer echoed..

"We look forward to meeting you and your crew." Then the channel closed with a loud click.

Archer and Trip exchanged looks. "Seem like friendly enough folk," Trip commented, but even his normally sunny mood was muted.

"Perhaps," Malcolm muttered.

* * *

The landing coordinates were in the middle of a courtyard. When Malcolm cycled the shuttle hatch open, he took a brief moment to survey the surroundings. "Captain, we're surrounded by the Lurans. I suggest caution."

Archer nodded. "Agreed. Let's go meet the natives, shall we?"

Malcolm exited the shuttle first, to the enthusiastic chanting of the Lurans. Then Archer followed, with Trip, T'Pol, Hoshi and Phlox bringing up the rear. Hoshi walked up to the Head Speaker with Malcolm on one side and Archer on the other. The Speaker towered over even Archer, his purple skin and hairless skull gleaming with body paint. The Speaker pressed his palms together and bowed deeply. Hoshi and Archer returned the bow, while Malcolm saluted with the _katana._

"Greetings, Captain Archer. I am Mu'ranex."

Archer's hand moved towards the _ahn-woon_ on his belt, but to everyone's surprise, Mu'ranex reached out and stopped him. Malcolm scowled and whipped the _katana_'s point towards the Head Speaker's throat. Mu'ranex's other hand snapped up and intercepted the blade; it bounced off an invisible shield and threw sparks.

"_Very_ good, _Fawh-der_," Mu'ranex said, as he dropped both hands. He gave Malcolm a nod of approval. "Captain, your Warrior is loyal and skilled. You do not have to perform the speeches; it is required for high dignitaries from other Luran colonies, but not guests."

T'Pol's eyebrow shot up in surprise. Hoshi blinked, then said, "It was included with the First Protocols, Head Speaker, so we had assumed—"

Mu'ranex glanced down at her and smiled widely, his grotesquely green gums stretched taught over pointed teeth. "That is the standard First Protocol that we relay to all our guests, My Lady. It is a forgivable mistake; the Denobulans assumed the same thing and carried their _sekhla_ with them. It cause quite a diplomatic incident, if I remember correctly."

Phlox frowned in confusion. "I do not recall that particular story in Denobulan history, sir."

The Head Speaker chuckled at his expression."It was kept within particular circles, Doctor Phlox. Imagine the embarrassment that your leaders would have had if _that_ story was widely known!" At the doctor's look of askance, he added, "Doctor Va'Ruth is my second cousin, and she speaks fondly of the Denobulan who was as lost on Earth as she was. She sends her regards, Doctor."

"I'm glad to meet one of her family," Phlox answered with a slight grin.

Mu'ranex glanced at Archer, who mirrored Phlox's smile. "And would you let me be known to your officers?"

"Of course. My first officer, Subcommander T'Pol, my Chief Engineer Charles Tucker, my Armory Officer Malcolm Reed, and my Communications Officer Hoshi Sato. Doctor Phlox, you already know."

Mu'ranex gazed at T'Pol, then at Trip. "I am honored to meet you and your mate, sir, as well as the _Fawh-der_ and his mate."

T'Pol returned the gaze as Trip looked surprised. "I am curious to know how you could tell my relationship with Commander Tucker and of Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato."

The Head Speaker nodded and replied, "There is an...unmistakable bond that Lurans can detect between beloveds, Subcommander. I cannot explain it any better than that, but we instinctively know. So, I would not worry about your virtue or of Ensign Sato's, for we hold the mating bond sacred as your people do."

"Ah," T'Pol said, as she and Hoshi traded looks. The simple explanation also clarified how the High Chieftain in their universe had been able to tell that Doctor Reed had been Hoshi's 'mate'. Of course, the Lurans there hadn't been so forthcoming with that information.

"We have arranged a reception for you and your officers, Captain. If you would all follow me, I wish to introduce you to my Council. They are all very eager to meet each of you." Mu'ranex extended his hand up the walkway and allowed Archer to walk by his side. The rest of the Away team followed. Malcolm and Hoshi were directly behind Archer, with Trip and T'Pol next and Phlox bringing up the rear.

"Really friendly folk," Trip repeated under his breath.

"Indeed," Malcolm said, his tone ironic. He kept Hoshi's _katana _in his hand and his other arm around Hoshi's shoulders. Despite Mu'ranex's reassurance, Hoshi could feel all eyes on her, both admiring and antagonistic. His arm tightened around her as someone hissed from the audience.

"Malcolm—" she whispered.

"Stay alert, Hoshi. I won't relax until we're safely back on the ship."

She nodded. It was starting all over again, but this time, she planned to change the ending. Hoshi glanced over at him as he kept a vigilant watch over the Away team. _I won't lose you again, my love. I won't lose you. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**We find out what's going on with these Lurans...and Hoshi and T'Pol work together.**

**One more chapter after this...please let me know whether or not you enjoyed this, and whether or not you'd like to see more stories about Captain Sato and her E crew. I'll also be penning stories in the "real" universe too. **

**Rating: T**

**R/S and TnT**

**Fourteen**

T'Pol sat comfortably on her mat and watched the others as they mingled with the Luran Council. Captain Archer was describing San Francisco to the Head Speaker, with Phlox interjecting every so often. Mu'ranex's architects huddled around a table with Trip, showing him their plans for a new space center. Another small crowd cheered as one of their people hit the floor, the cheerful victim of one of Malcolm's self-defense lessons. The Luran bounced back up and bowed to the _fawh-der_, who bowed back. Another Luran took his place and asked another question about the technique.

"They seem to be enjoying themselves," Hoshi commented, as she sat next to T'Pol.

"And yourself?"

"The Head Speaker's wife is a linguist and she explained some idioms and expressions to me," she answered. "Turns out that the Head Speaker was right about the speeches. They're optional, not required, but they have more respect for you if you do it." Hoshi winced. "In Captain Archer's case, though, maybe it's best left alone."

T'Pol nodded, a glimmer of humor in her eyes. "Indeed. I would not want a repeat of the Denobulans' first contact here."

Hoshi stifled her laughter and took another drink out of the flask next to T'Pol. "Yes, definitely."

"I have been discussing a variety of subjects with the Lurans, including their views on quantum and Volian mechanics. They have been curious about other universes, Hoshi, to the point where they have been planning their own experiments."

The captain's eyes narrowed at her words. T'Pol could hear the gears working in her head, then Hoshi said, "You mean, they've been messing with the dimensions?"

"No, these Lurans have a code of ethics that they refuse to break. At least, most of them."

"Most of them," Hoshi repeated softly. "Meaning that someone doesn't want to play by the rules."

"Yes. We need to find who it is and stop him or her." T'Pol got to her feet. "Let us investigate further."

The hours passed as Hoshi and T'Pol chatted and argued with various Lurans. Although the reception hall was light and airy, with a grand fountain as its focal point, T'Pol found the atmosphere stifling, even for a Vulcan. The Lurans didn't seem affected by the heat and the humidity. She saw Hoshi wipe sweat from her forehead, so T'Pol knew she wasn't the only one affected.

_Hey, T'Pol, think we can step out for a sec? I'm not feelin' too well. _Trip's mind-voice sounded slurred, as though he'd been drinking. Her concern spiked as she felt a wave of dizziness overcome her, and she realized it was Trip who was dizzy. She turned and stumbled in his direction, and nearly collided with him as he met her halfway. He leaned against her with alarming weakness.

_Drugged,_ Trip thought, as he fought to hang on to consciousness. _There was somethin' in the food and drink, T'Pol. They've drugged us!_

_Stay with me, _thy'la, she commanded. _Don't lose consciousness or we will both be lost. Archer? Reed? Phlox?_

_I dunno. I didn't see 'em. _His concentration was shaky, even with T'Pol's assistance. _If I'm bein' hit this hard just lookin' over buildin' plans, then..._Trip shook his head. _Malcolm was doin' some kinda martial arts demo..._

T'Pol forced the fatigue from her mind as she looked at the other side of the room. Hoshi knelt by Malcolm's side; the Armory Officer's eyes were closed and his breathing labored. Archer was next to Hoshi, his tall frame trembling. Phlox frowned at something on his medical scanner. The Denobulan passed it over Hoshi and Archer, then the frown turned into a grim scowl. It looked unnatural on his normally pleasant face.

He snapped his head towards the Head Speaker. The Luran wore a slight smile, his teeth exposed. "What did you do to them?" Phlox demanded.

"Just a...minor inconvenience," Mu'ranex replied, his voice a low purr. "Do not worry, Doctor, the toxin moves swiftly and it will be painless...mostly."

T'Pol felt a surge of anger through her; it cleared her mind, but her reflexes were slow. Trip launched himself at the Head Speaker with a rage that gave both of them strength. Mu'ranex raised his hands to defend himself, too late, as Trip slammed directly into him. T'Pol saw the other Lurans snap out of their paralysis and went in to assist Trip. One of Mu'ranex 's ministers grabbed Hoshi by her hair and jerked her backwards.

Her startled cry shook Malcolm out of his stupor. He swung the _wakazashi _outward, its blade connecting with the minister's leg. The Lurun yelped and let go of Hoshi. She drove her elbow into another Luran's stomach as he reached for her.

"I have the antidote," Phlox said, as a Luran handed him several hypodermic needles. "Your arm, Subcommander." He injected her with one of the needles, then administered the antidote to Archer. T'Pol felt the clouds over her mind dissolve. She accepted another hypodermic from him and headed towards Trip.

"Hoshi...next," Malcolm whispered. He'd fallen back into her arms, too exhausted for anything else.

Phlox glanced at Hoshi, whose face was ashen. "Hold his arm still, Ensign."

T'Pol grimaced as she waded through the fray of Lurans. The Head Speaker snarled as two of his fellows held him fast. She ignored him as she knelt next to Trip. His presence was a thin thread in her mind, close to breaking, and she caught it and held it to her. T'Pol murmured her apology as she administered the antidote and felt his mental cry as the needle broke his skin.

"They should die!" a voice screamed over the chaos. "The Gods demand it! We shall not fail in our mission!"

T'Pol glanced up as the Head Speaker's wife broke free of her captors and threw herself at Hoshi and Malcolm. Her long nails raked across Phlox's cheek as she streaked past him. Then she heard the jangle of bells, saw Hoshi's arm snap forward, as she threw Archer's _ahn-woon_ in defense. Somehow, Hoshi had managed to grab the _ahn-woon_ off the captain's belt and use it.

The leather band wrapped around the Luran's neck, the chimes striking her directly in the face. Hoshi bit her lip as she pivoted, taking the woman off her feet.

And the _ahn-woon_ snapped with a loud crack!

A blinding light erupted in front of T'Pol, knocking her backwards against the wall. The impact dazed her; her knees failed to hold her upright, and she slid into a heap. She fought her way back to her knees. Her right hand felt something on the floor in front of her.

Her _ahn-woon. _Intact.

_What has happened? _T'Pol shook her head, still stunned. Then she heard a familiar—yet _unfamiliar_—voice in her head.

_That damned son of a—he's gonna hurt the captain!_

"What—?" Her body moved of its own accord, forcing itself to her feet, then her hands manipulated the _ahn-woon_, throwing it outward and upward. It caught something soft in its folds, and as she jerked it backwards. The object she'd captured spasmed, nearly tearing the weapon from her hands.

She stumbled and fell. A gentle hand supported her shoulders. "You all right, darlin'?"

"Trip?" she asked weakly. She pressed a hand to her forehead, ignoring the pain in her right shoulder. Her shoulder had been wrenched terribly.

"He won't hurt anyone again," Trip said, his voice grim. She looked up at him, at the familiar blue eyes, the chains on his chest, the empty knife sheaves on his arms...

Chains? Knife sheaves? T'Pol snapped her head towards the front of the Hall. The Luran High Chieftain lay twisted, the _ahn-woon_ around his neck, two knives buried in his chest. She dropped her end of the weapon and rushed to the unmoving bodies at the front of the Hall. Trip followed her, pausing next to the shattered maroon jewel beside the body. .

Jon Archer shook his head and glanced around him. "What the—?" A Luran approached him and started talking to him rapidly. He said, "Looks like we've got a—change in leadership, here, Captain...Captain?"

"Hoshi!" T'Pol shouted.

She groaned and struggled to a sitting position, but the body of Malcolm Reed covered hers. Her movement seemed to rouse him and he managed to pull himself off her. T'Pol stared at Hoshi, dressed in the black sleeveless dress, the red silk cape crumpled under her, the black hair in a perfumed cloud over her face.

"Malcolm?" Hoshi whispered. "Are you—"

"I'm in one piece," he replied with a half-smile. He brushed the curtain of hair back so she could see him. "Are you all right?"

She stared up at him as if she'd never seen him before. Then with a sob, she buried her face within his chest. His eyes widened, then he glanced at T'Pol and Trip with a perplexed expression.

"Doctor Reed?" T'Pol asked cautiously.

He raised an eyebrow, the gray eyes sparkling. "Thank you," he murmured.

She nodded and gave an inaudible sigh of relief. Trip grinned and muttered under his breath, "About damn time they figured it out."


	15. Chapter 15

**Whips, Chains and Plomeek Soup**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.**

**Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, "Captain Sato's Enterprise". Read that fic first to understand what's going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren't all they seem. T'Pol's relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it's not how it is in the "real" universe.**

**This is the last chapter (but not the last story!)**

**This last chapter wraps up some loose ends, but still has a few details that will probably be expanded in future stories. Also...what exactly **_**does**_** Doctor Reed know about the Vulcan and their "mission"?**

**Thanks to all my readers and reviewers who have stuck by this story and "Captain Sato's Enterprise" and my other ENT fics!**

**Lady Minstrel****: Welcome and glad you're here! Thank you for the kind review!**

**Begoogled****: Thanks as usual, for your great comments and critiques!**

**Volley****: Glad you still peeked (though I know you're not a fan of AU!).**

**Rfortstars****: You're welcome!**

**Pesterfield****: Thanks for catching my mistakes before they become MAJOR mistakes! I really appreciate it.**

**Vulcan Commando****: Thanks for reading! I hope I kept the Vulcans (esp. T'Pol) more in character.**

**Here we go everyone!

* * *

**

**Fifteen**

Lieutenant T'Pol sat in the Mess Hall, directly across from Lieutenant Commander Trip Tucker. The Armory Officer had finished his analysis of what had happened on Luran. T'Pol had confirmed no loss of time between the High Chieftain's story and their intervention to save Captain Sato and Doctor Reed. Their dimension was restored.

Yet there were subtle differences. As she had told Hoshi, the changes were unavoidable. For one, there was the matter of her rank. One of her ship designs had finally gained approval with the Vulcan Space and Ship Operations. As a result, she'd received a long-overdue promotion.

For another, she and Trip had become another one of those "open secrets" aboard _Enterprise_. Nothing approaching the Captain and the Doctor, but she saw the smiles and the knowing looks. Trip didn't mind "takin' it slow" and she agreed with him. T'Pol didn't share thoughts with him to the extent of the "other" Trip Tucker, and part of her missed that connection. She had never known such things existed.

She knew that would come in time, and if that never happened, at least she could have his friendship. In any case, she knew Trip would be there for her.

"Trip—"

"Yeah?"

"I never did thank you for assisting me on Luran."

He laughed and shook his head. "That's okay. We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

Her mouth twitched, but she managed to keep a straight face. "Yes."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Y'know, I'm glad you finally got out of the habit of callin' me 'Lieutenant Commander' all the time. That _isn't_ my name and I was wonderin' if I shoulda made it my name."

She inclined her head. "It has taken me some time to 'get used to the idea', as you would put it."

"Yeah, there are some ideas that need some time t'get used to," he agreed. He gave her a speculative look. "And there are some ideas that don't take as much time at all."

T'Pol sat there for a moment and thought about the words. Then, without hesitation, she lifted two fingers and offered them to him. He matched the gesture with a smile.

"I must admit...the prospect is quite agreeable to me, Trip. Quite agreeable."

* * *

Captain's Log: Supplemental

The new High Chieftess, Ni'thuta has issued a formal apology for her predecessor's actions. The Luran Council has been more than generous in the rest of the negotiations. We have every expectation that this treaty between Luran and Earth will be of mutual benefit for everyone involved.

The _Enterprise_ is en-route to her next assignment in the Trianon system. Ship's operations has returned to normal. Commander Mayweather and Lieutenant Ellen Varianis have made significant discoveries concerning the Urathan Nebula. I have noted commendations to both for their excellent work; Mayweather has deferred most of the credit to Varianis. Crewman Saeed El-Sadr has been given a clean bill of health by Doctor Reed and is back on active duty in the Armory.

* * *

Captain's Log: Personal, locked under personal code.

T'Pol and I talked about what happened to us during the cross between dimensions. Apparently, my actions in the "alternate" universe mirrored hers here in "our" universe, and Trip's actions in _both _universes enabled us to make it work. In a moment of candor, T'Pol told me that her marriage to the other universe's Trip is only one of many outcomes, but one that she "would find satisfactory if it comes to pass in our universe". Of course, for the sake of "dimensional integrity", I've agreed that this incident should remain between us and not be shared, even with Ambassador Soval, Minister V'Lar and Security Minister T'Pau. The Vulcans' mission of making sure our dimensional borders remain intact is one of their closely-held secrets and I will honor it.

Of course, I am not the only Human to know this, and he has vowed a pact of silence as well. I know that he will uphold that pact as long as necessary...forever, if needed.

* * *

Hoshi Sato sat in the darkened Lounge, staring out at the stars as _Enterprise_ cruised at a steady Warp 2. Chief Engineer Phlox had gone through his hibernation cycle and was back in Engineering. His unexpected nap could have thrown his department for a loop, but Lieutenants Hess, Rostov and Kelby took care of things admirably in his absence. Hoshi chuckled to herself; there were some things that she was glad stayed the same and didn't change.

"Penny for your thoughts?" asked the British-accented voice in the doorway.

"Worth that much?" she teased, as Doctor Malcolm Reed moved to sit next to her.

"Ha'penny, then?" he teased back as she settled into the crook of his arm.

She laughed and half-turned so she faced him. "I can understand why you didn't say anything, Malcolm. If Starfleet knew they had a Guardian in their ranks..."

"I'd probably be in an Intelligence outpost somewhere being analyzed molecule by molecule," Malcolm said, with a touch of sarcasm. "The Vulcans knew there was something special about me when I was doing my residency at the their Medical Academy. I thought I was going mad, but they told me certain people are sensitive to certain aspects of their environment. It seems I have a touch of, well, a type of clairvoyance."

"You're psychic?" she asked, though it didn't really surprise her.

"Not consciously. It only kicks in when something...doesn't feel right, but it's enough to catch my attention. Doctor T'Les—T'Pol's mother—introduced me to T'Pau and their little circle of Guardians and so," he shrugged, "I was able to channel it into something useful."

She sighed and shook her head. "You knew something was wrong at the Lurans' hall."

"Yes, but I didn't know exactly what it was until it was almost too late." He looked directly at her. "Unfortunately, my sensitivity isn't always one hundred percent reliable. As a result, we nearly lost you and T'Pol."

Her arms tightened around him. "Don't blame yourself. You knew there was something wrong with El-Sadr and were able to help him. You unconsciously tapped into your 'Armory Officer alter ego' and stuck the High Chieftain with a hypodermic needle." He snorted, but she went on, "You saved my life."

They were silent for a moment, then he said, "And I would do it again, Hoshi."

"I know."

"And you know that it's an ongoing operation. We still don't know who attacked T'Les at the Vulcan Science Academy."

"I know." She sighed and added, "I'm on your side and I'll help you however I can."

His grip tightened on her. "I appreciate it, more than you know."

They fell into another companionable silence. She closed her eyes and savored the gentle warmth of his breath on her hair. He chuckled silently, but she felt his chest shaking in mirth.

"What?" she asked.

"Tell me...about my counterpart, the armory officer. How similar are we to each other?"

Hoshi felt her cheeks grow warm as she answered, "More than you probably know."


End file.
